

CANNOT LEAVE THE LIBRARY. 


c 


Chap.—\—f‘. 

SHELF— A 


CAj-r 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 


LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

9—165 




CAMP-FIRES ON THE SCIOTO 


BOOKS BY 

CHARLES S. WOOD 


On the Frontier with St. Clair 

A Story of the early settlement of the Ohio 
Country. 343 pages. Price $1,50, 

The Sword of Wayne 

A story of the way he smote the Indians and 
brought them to sue for peace. 370 pages. 
Price $1.50. 

Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

Showing the courage and hardships of the 
Winners of the West. 319 pages. Price 

#1.50. 

Each volume is illustrated by five full- 
page illustrations by Chase Emerson . 





* 





























* 






•• 







0 



















% 




» 




















































« 


V 












J 





■v 


* 


%. 


9 



9 





* 










‘"THIS STORY WAS WRITTEN BY MORRIS PATTERSON" 



CAMP-FIRES ON THE 
SCIOTO 

SHOWING THE C OUTAGE AND HARDSHIPS 
OF THE WINNERS OF THE WEST 


BY 

CHARLES S. WOOD 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

CHASE EMERSON 


I love to believe that no heroic sacrifice is ever lost. 

— James A. Garfield, 



W. A. WILDE COMPANY 

BOSTON AND CHICAGO 

c a |^05j 



-rv*£~U BRARY OP rj 

CONGRESS 
Two Cooies deceived * 

AUG <5 1905 

Gopynzht Entry 

St /?<? 6" 

«8I t 

s ; 


TZ. r 

O-CX- 


Copyrighted, 1905 
W. A. WII.DK COMPANY. 
All Rights Reserved. 


.C A M P-P I R E S ON THE SCIOTO. 



TO 

THE MEMORY OF MY SISTER, 

Isabella Burnet Wood, 

WHOSE LOVING SYMPATHY AND ENTHUSIASTIC 
ENCOURAGEMENT HAVE BEEN A 
LIFE-LONG INSPIRATION, 

THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. 
















































































































































































' 






































































































































































































PREFACE 


To the young readers of this volume a preface 
is unnecessary, hut there are older persons, teach- 
ers, parents and others, who cannot spare the time 
to read a book of this kind, to whom a brief state- 
ment of its relation to historical facts may be use- 
ful. 

The story is based on the historical records of 
Nathaniel Massie’s surveys of the Virginia Mili- 
tary District of Ohio. The time is from 1791 to 
1796, that preparatory period in early Ohio history 
when the hostility of the Indians retarded the 
settlement of the territory. After the treaty of 
General Anthony Wayne had opened the gates of 
the West, the emigrants came in crowds by boat, 
by wagon, and on horseback. 

When, after their toilsome journey of months, 
they reached their destined goal, there was no need 
of delay in securing farms and building homes for 
their families, for much of the land had been sur- 
veyed and was waiting for purchasers. A faint 
conception of the magnitude of this work may be 
obtained from the fact, that of the more than four 
million acres of land in the Virginia Military Dis- 
trict, the tract reserved by that state for her Revo- 

7 


8 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

lutionary veterans, Massie surveyed about one- 
sixth of its area ; and while he did much surveying 
for others, yet a goodly share of the forest and 
prairie trodden by his feet he acquired for him- 
self by his arduous and hazardous tours in a time 
of warfare with the savages. 

Something of the dangers encountered in prose- 
cuting these surveys, without military protection 
among savage enemies, and of the hardships en- 
dured in the depth of winter, without shelter from 
cold or storm, the reader will learn from these 
pages. It will be well for young people of today to 
know more of those worthy deeds, and to compre- 
hend more clearly the large debt we owe to the 
hardy surveyors and their chainmen, who were 
the first laborers in the forest, making the neces- 
sary preparation for the settlement of the West- 
ern lands. It may be, as they read of toil and hard- 
ship cheerfully borne, that some inspiration will 
come to them to do their own tasks faithfully, and 
to bear their burden without complaint. 

It is the intention of the author to fulfill the 
promise implied in the concluding chapter. 

It was a singular coincidence that the burning 
of the manuscript described in the first chapter 
had its counterpart in reality, as the first manu- 
script of this book was destroyed by fire in the 
car of the express company, on its way to the 
publishers. 

Glen Auburn, Urbana, O. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I The Burnt Manuscript 13 

II In the Hands of the Indians 25 

III In the Fog 39 

IV Why I had to Support the Family 45 

V The Lodge in the Hollow Tree 58 

VI A Trip to Losantiville 69 

VII Donalson’s Return 79 

VIII A Long Look Ahead 92 

IX The School by the Fort 104 

X With Massie in the Woods 117 

XI Kenton’s Attack on Tecumseh’s Camp 133 

XII The Largest Serpent in the World 149 

XIII The First Camp by the Scioto 163 

XIV Pathfinding on the Scioto 179 

XV Deserted in the Mire 194 

XVI The Rotten Log 203 

XVII The Fight in the Bear’s Den 216 

XVIII I Meet an Old Friend 230 

XIX Josh Tells His Story 238 

XX Starvation Camp 247 

XXI A Grand Hunt and a Feast 256 

XXII Tom Anderson Wants a Comrade 262 

XXIII A Foolhardy Settler 273 

XXIV The Last Skirmish with the Indians in Ohio 282 

XXV A Daring Venture 291 

XXVI The Lost Manuscript 316 
























































































































































































































































































































































♦ 













































































ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

“‘This story was written by Morris Patterson’ ” 

Frontispiece 23 

“I FOLLOWED HIM AS HE STOLE FROM TREE TO TREE” ... 59 J 

“That evening Mr. Massie asked me to sit on a log by 

him” 131 

“I FOUND THE BELL-HORSE SOME DISTANCE AWAY AND CUT 
THE BELL STRAP” 


“ ‘He’s A SPECIMEN IF EVER THERE WAS one’ ” 


210 
274 / 



Camp-Fires on the Scioto 


CHAPTEK I 

THE BURNT MANUSCRIPT 

Two children of about the same age were spend- 
ing their Christmas holidays with their grand- 
parents at Adena, the famous old stone mansion 
built by Governor Worthington on a beautiful site 
among the hills west of Chillicothe. On this par- 
ticular afternoon they were sitting in the drawing- 
room before a large wood fire. 

Eleanor had been playing on the piano but, as 
her cousin Arthur was too deeply absorbed in one 
of Scott's romances to listen to the music, she 
also took up a book and sat near him, idly looking 
at the pictures. She was not oblivious of her sur- 
roundings as the boy seemed to be, and in a few 
moments turned, saying in startled tones : 

1 c Arthur! Something is on fire! Don't you 
smell the smoke?" 

“ Don't bother me, Eleanor, when I am read- 
13 


14 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

mg,” Arthur replied without looking up, hardly 
conscious of what the girl said. 

“But listen, cousin. May he the house is on 
fire. We must find out and give the alarm.” 

By this time Arthur was roused from his dreamy 
state, and after sniffing the air an instant he rushed 
to the hall as alert as any hoy of thirteen should he. 

“It’s paper, Eleanor. Come to the library.” 

As they darted through the great hall the chil- 
dren saw wreaths of smoke floating out of the open 
door. No flames were to be seen as they peered 
through the misty air, hut a cloud of smoke was 
pouring from a large closet in which their grand- 
father kept his choicest treasures of old hooks and 
papers, and packages of letters from the prominent 
men of that day and of earlier times. Arthur ran 
boldly through the smoke to look in, and after a 
moment’s hesitation Eleanor followed. 

‘ ‘ Why, grandfather ! 9 ’ the boy exclaimed. “You 
will he burned. Come out.” 

General Worthington was standing just inside 
the door, holding an old brass candlestick in his 
left hand and a book in his right, helplessly gazing 
at the impending destruction as if dazed, while the 
flames were creeping up the sides of the closely 
packed shelves, and the acrid smell of burning 


The Burnt Manuscript 15 

leather was choking him. Arthur began to pull 
him backward through the door, while Eleanor ran 
into the hall screaming: 

“The house is on fire, and grandpa is burning 
up.” 

Instantly there was a commotion and a rush of 
the family and servants to the library. Mr. 
Worthington still kept his place inside the door 
of the book closet, and no one could get in to put 
out the flames. His wife took him by the arm and 
with old Caesar’s help drew him out, just as Arthur 
came in with Jim, the gardener, each bringing a 
pail of water. Mrs. Worthington took the direc- 
tion of extinguishing the flames, and Caesar quickly 
emptied the buckets which the children and serv- 
ants brought. 

The fire was soon under control and they sup- 
posed it entirely out ; but Arthur discovered smoke 
coming out of the shelves above a set of drawers 
that were kept locked. 

“ Whar de key, Gren’ul?” Caesar asked. 

Mr. Worthington searched his pockets and an- 
swered : 

1 1 The bunch is in the suit I wore this morning. 
Break it open. J im, bring an ax . 9 9 

“Here’s the old tomahawk. Won’t that do?” 


16 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

Arthur asked, taking down from the wall of the 
library an iron tomahawk, which Tecumseh had 
presented to Governor Worthington many years 
before when he was a guest of honor at Adena. 

Caesar quickly smashed the lock and pulled out 
the drawer. There was fire in it which burst into a 
flame as soon as the air reached it. Arthur lifted 
a pail of water and was about to pour it on the 
flames, when his grandfather pushed him aside and 
the water drenched his slippered feet. 

“ Foolish boy, stop! You will ruin my most 
important papers.” 

As he said this he pulled off his old wrapper and, 
careless of his hands, smothered the flames and 
stamped out the fire. Meantime Caesar had 
knocked open the other drawers and taken them 
out, and Arthur had the satisfaction of drenching 
the casing and so putting an end to the fire. 

Mr. Worthington now had Caesar and Jim take 
down the burned and scorched books, and all those 
damaged by water, and carry them to an uncar- 
peted room upstairs to dry. The distress of the 
old gentleman, as his treasures were brought forth 
and the damage to them was revealed, could hardly 
have been greater if they had been human beings. 
Human they were to him because they contained 


The Burnt Manuscript 17 

the record of early days in the West, of events in 
which his own family bore an important part, and 
in which great men wrought with a self-sacrificing 
spirit for the good of future generations. 

“What is this little old book?” Arthur asked, 
holding a volume bound in sheepskin, still warm 
from the fire that had burned oft almost the entire 
back. 

“What a pity! McDonald’s sketches. John 
McDonald gave it to me. You should read it, 
Arthur, for it tells the story of Simon Kenton, 
and of Captain Wells, and of Colonel Massie’s 
founding Chillicothe. It is as interesting as one of 
Scott’s novels. Handle it carefully and don’t lose 
any of the pages, ’ ’ he said, handing it to Arthur. 

“Is that Burnet’s notes, Caesar?” 

“Dunno, Gen’ul. I done lef my glasses in de 
kitchen.” 

“You are an old fraud, Caesar. You couldn’t 
read a line if you had them. But this fine old 
book is nearly ruined,” taking the once handsome 
volume, bound in morocco. 

“Judge Burnet presented this copy to me, Ar- 
thur. He and father had many a stiff fight in 
politics, but they were good friends for all that. 
Judge Burnet was a Federalist all his days, and 


1 8 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

father was a Democrat, but each had a great part 
in the founding and early development of our 
Commonwealth. This book is the most valuable 
history of those times, written by one who knew all 
the actors. I am sorry it is so injured, and it must 
be rebound.” 

General Worthington now examined the pack- 
ages of letters, the most valuable having fortunate- 
ly escaped injury. 

“ There are letters from Judge Byrd, Charles 
Willing Byrd. He was an old crank and I don’t 
care much for them. Those are from Governor 
M'cArthur, written before he and father fell out. 
These are epistles from the brilliant but dissipated 
Michael Baldwin.” 

6 ‘ 1 have heard of him, grandfather. Mr. McClin- 
tock says Baldwin wrote the Constitution of Ohio 
on the head of a whisky barrel in a tavern. ’ ’ 

“McClintock knows better. That old story is 
not true. Baldwin wrote a part of it, but it was 
done in committees at their boarding houses, when 
serious minded men were soberly discussing the 
best form of the different articles.” 

1 ‘ Here is a big package of papers all tied to- 
gether, and the tops and edges of the leaves are 
burned. ’ ’ 


19 


The Burnt Manuscript 

“ Don’t handle it, Eleanor, until I examine it. 
That is a story of pioneer life written by a friend 
of my father. You would like to read that, I am 
sure. ’ y 

“Oh please hurry and let us see what it is,” 
Arthur exclaimed, as he impatiently watched the 
careful movements of his grandfather. They saw 
several quires of foolscap paper. The fire had run 
along the edges and had burned off the wrapper, 
and scorched the first page, but the writing seemed 
to have escaped injury. 

“I am so satisfied it isn’t burned,” said Eleanor, 
with a little sigh of relief. “Will you let us read 
it?” 

“It’s a jolly good story to read if it tells all 
about the old times here in Chillicothe. There were 
plenty of adventures here, and I wish I had lived 
in those days.” 

“The best time for a boy or a man to live is the 
age in which God places him. If he uses his op- 
portunities he will find plenty to do and enjoy his 
life at the same time,” his grandmother remarked. 
At this moment General Worthington began 
searching the broken drawers with hurried nervous 
movements. 

“This is only the first part of Patterson’s story. 


20 


Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

Where is the second part? I had tied them up in 
separate packages and always kept them together 
in these drawers. It is very strange it is not here. 
Mother, do you know anything about it?” 

‘ ‘ What is missing, General?” 

1 1 The second part of Patterson ’s manuscript, the 
part that tells about the founding of this town and 
the formation of our state.” 

* 4 Perhaps it is in your secretary . 9 9 

“It cannot be there. Still, I will look.” 

He went to a tall, old mahogany bookcase with 
glass doors. There were pigeon holes and small 
drawers above the drop leaf, and underneath, a 
large drawer. But the manuscript could not be 
found there, and other drawers and closets were 
searched with no better success. 

“What has become of it? It is the most import- 
ant part of the story. Where is it, mother?” he 
demanded rather sternly. 

“I know nothing about it. Perhaps you have 
lent it so long ago that you have forgotten who bor- 
rowed it. Books are always disappearing because 
people neglect to return them when they have read 
them. They should have as much conscience about 
them as about paying borrowed money.” 

4 ‘ Some people have very little conscience about 


The Burnt Manuscript 21 

doing that. I remember now that Major Mason 
wanted to read that story and I let him have it. 
He has taken all his family South for the winter 
and his house is shut up. As soon as he comes 
home next spring I will get it hack. 

‘ ‘ Children, I want you to read this old story, hut 
I see that I cannot trust you to handle it in its 
damaged condition. Therefore, I shall have to 
read it to you if you care to hear it. ’ ’ 

“Oh that will he grand ,’ y they exclaimed at the 
same time. 

“You will learn much about the history of our 
state. This part tells the story of Colonel Nathan- 
iel Massie’s surveys in the Virginia Military Dis- 
trict. That work was important because it opened 
up central Ohio to settlement. Most of that sur- 
veying was done in the dead of winter when the 
exposure was fearful, or when the hostile Indians 
were still in possession of the lands and the sur- 
veying trips were like military expeditions. Mor- 
ris Patterson was with him on all those dangerous 
and arduous journeys and he tells about their 
hardships and adventures. 

“In the second part of the manuscript he tells 
about the settlement of Chillicothe and the forma- 
tion of the State of Ohio, and the work of my 


22 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

father and of Governor Tiffin and of other men 
who were the leaders in that movement. Ours is a 
grand state, the third in the Union in population, 
manufactures and wealth, and one of the foremost 
in its political influence. You ought to know well 
the story of its beginning. 

“But now the afternoon is nearly gone and you 
have been moping in the house too long. Take 
your sleds and have an hour’s coasting and set 
your blood to running, then after tea I will read 
you the first three or four chapters.” 

There was no lack of good hills for coasting at 
Adena, the name by which Governor Worthington 
called his home. As the children climbed the hill 
after an hour’s sport they stopped to look at the 
old stone mansion which crowned the height above 
them. 

“What a lovely old place this is even in the 
winter! When did Governor Worthington build 
it?” Eleanor asked. 

“In 1805. It cost a mint of money, more than 
$20,000. Just think of bringing marble mantels, 
and pier glasses, and all that handsome furniture 
over the mountains before there were any roads !” 

“How many grand times they have had here, 
dinners and parties and dancing in the long par- 


The Burnt Manuscript 23 

lors, and lovers walking about on the terraces and 
whispering sweet nonsense under these old trees. ’ ’ 
“I like to hear grandfather talk about the great 
men that have been guests. Henry Clay always 
stopped here on his way to and from Washington, 
and Daniel Webster came out here, and John 
Adams, and the Grand Duke of Saxon Rhymer. ’ ’ 
Eleanor laughed merrily. 

“Wouldn’t grandma be vexed if she heard you 
make such a blunder ! It was Saxe-Weimer.” 

1 ‘ W ell, you needn ’t laugh. Y ou didn ’t know who 
Tecumseh was last week. I would rather have 
seen him than any old Dutchman. Let’s hurry into 
the house and be ready for the story as soon as 
tea is over.” 

The children waited rather impatiently, while 
their grandfather built up the fire and fixed the 
lamps to suit his failing sight. 

4 1 This story was written by Morris Patterson, ’ ’ 
he said, rubbing his glasses with his handkerchief. 
“His name is not enrolled among the great ones of 
our history, but he was a grand old man for all 
that. He was modest, pushing his friends forward 
and keeping himself in the background. There are 
many unknown heroes and statesmen, fully as com- 
petent to rule wisely, as those who obtain office. 


24 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

Such men of large intelligence and of incorruptible 
honesty are the great conservative force in our 
country. 

“Now, I am ready to begin.’ ’ 


CHAPTER II 


IN THE HANDS OF THE INDIANS 

My grandchildren have asked me many times to 
tell them some of my yonthfnl adventures, and 
those of the hardy rangers of the forest whom I 
knew years ago. We have often spent the win- 
ter evenings in talking over those old times, and 
I have seen the children’s cheeks flush and their 
eyes grow bright, as they heard of the worthy 
deeds and heroic sacrifices that formed such a large 
part of the lives of the pioneers in Ohio; and for 
many days after, I have noticed that these boys and 
girls did their work more cheerfully and bent over 
their books with more studious industry, as they 
remembered what their ancestors had endured 
and wrought. 

But Morris, doubly dear to me because he is my 
namesake, and because the scarlet fever has treated 
him in the Indian fashion by robbing him of his 
ears, sits quietly by the fireside, and looks wist- 
fully at his companions when they laugh at some 
25 


26 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

odd scrape I am telling, or catch their breath over 
some threatening peril from which escape seems 
impossible. Therefore, because of my love for the 
boy, who never complains of his privation, bnt 
cheerfully takes pleasure in seeing others enjoy 
themselves, I am writing down for him the story 
of some of those important events of long ago. 

I have but a dim recollection of the home where 
I was born in 1778, in the Cumberland Valley. 
When I was seven years old and Susie five, my 
father, George Patterson, moved down into Vir- 
ginia, and soon afterwards came over Boone’s trail 
into Kentucky. I remember well, however, the day 
which first brought to our cabin Nathaniel Massie, 
that good friend of mine for many years from that 
time. 

It was in December, 1790, a cold, snowy, windy 
evening when he rode up to our door. He was a 
handsome young man about twenty-seven years 
old, tall and slender but very hardy and strong. 
My father and I were rolling in a large back-log 
for the evening fire, and it was all I could do to 
lift my end over the sill. 

“Let me help you, George,” he called out, swing- 
ing lightly out of the saddle. With that he lifted 
the stick and carried it in to the fireplace in the 


In the Hands of the Indians 2 7 

broad chimney. When he had rolled it into place, 
he noticed my admiration of his strength. 

“ Yon will do more than that when yon are grown, 
my lad. You are built to make a strong man.” 

You may be sure that feat and his hearty words 
won the heart of a boy. And when, that evening, 
in his lively pleasant way he told us of his plans 
for surveying the Virginia lands north of the 
Ohio river, and my father and mother agreed to 
join his company in building a station at the 
islands above Limestone, I was delighted at the 
prospect of a more adventurous life. 

Thirty men and woman signed the contract to 
form the station on the Indian shore. This was the 
most hazardous venture in the settlement of Ohio. 
The Indians were very warlike, threatening to 
break up every settlement and to bum every cabin, 
and either to kill or make slaves of all the settlers. 
We knew well enough all that was meant by such 
threats, for every few weeks we heard of fresh 
raids, and learned that cabins had been burned 
down in Kentucky, the men killed and the women 
and children carried far away towards the lakes. 

All the other settlements in Ohio were protected 
by forts and companies of regular soldiers. This 
one was formed without any intention of asking for 


28 


Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

such a guard. The brave men and women knew 
they must rely upon themselves alone for their 
defense. 

In the depth of winter the trees were felled and 
the cabins and blockhouses raised, and as soon as 
the frost came out of the ground in March the 
stockade of heavy pickets was built, and we felt 
tolerably secure in our new home. We had brought 
a good wagon load of corn to be pounded up into 
meal, but we lived more on meat, the forest sup- 
plying game, and the river was full of fine fish. 

One morning before daybreak I was fishing, 
when I heard a faint call far down the river. 

1 ‘ Hello, Morris! What are you doing in that 
sawyer V 9 

As I turned that way I saw a canoe with four 
men and a boy a half a mile below, slowly crossing 
to our side, the current being very strong because 
the river was nearly bankfull. I knew it was Tom 
Anderson, for no boy around there had a voice 
big enough to carry that far, even over the water. 
There was no time, however, to answer his hail, 
as at that moment my float was jerked under, and 
the pull on the line showed a fish was hooked which 
I had no mind to lose. I straddled the big branch, 
locked my feet together and swung my long pole 


In the Hands of the Indians 29 

out to guide the fish away from the limbs in the 
water, I was too busy to look for the boat and 
was just lifting the fish when Tom called out 
again. 

“That’s a stunner, Morris. Hold it up so we 
can see it.” 

“It’s as long as my arm,” I replied in a high 
excited tone, for I was more than a little proud 
of my catch. 

“That’s a jack-salmon. You are a lucky boy to 
get it, ’ ’ said Simon Kenton in his deep-toned voice. 
He was the largest man in the canoe and had a 
pleasant face and keen blue-gray eyes. 

“I know it is, Mr. Kenton. Israel caught one 
last week but ’twas only half as big. Ain’t he a 
beauty? 

“I did not know Donalson could manage a fish- 
ing rod. I thought the birch rod was his instru- 
ment. ’ ’ 

“He can use that with a limber hand, Simon, as 
I know to my sorrow.” 

We all laughed at Tom’s doleful tone, and he 
looked as if he felt the rod swishing around his 
legs at that minute. 

“Your sorrer ain’t stopped your growth,” Ken- 


30 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

ton answered, slapping Tom on his broad shoul- 
ders. 

“ There’s all the more nerve there to feel it when 
it’s well laid on. A boy slim as a saplin’ wouldn’t 
suffer as I have suffered, ’ ’ Tom replied in such a 
lugubrious tone that we all laughed again. 

I took up a minnow and began rebaiting my hook 
for another cast. 

“How did you learn to use that?” 

“The last big fish I cleaned had little fish in its 
stomach, and I thought if that was what they liked 
I would give them a taste . 9 9 

“You have a good thinker inside your pumpkin 
head,” Tom said. 

“I’ll see if your head isn’t softer than mine,” I 
retorted, giving him a crack with my pole. 

“By the great horn spoon, my head is broken. 
This boy is dangerous as a Shawnee. Let’s be go- 
ing, Simon. ’ ’ 

“We must in a minute. That’s a sweet tooth- 
some fish, and I hanker for a nice fish fry. Will ye 
trade it for this gobbler. Heft it and see if that 
would be a fair trade.” 

“No, Mr. Kenton*. I couldn’t trade that way. 
That’s a thirty pound gobbler. It wouldn’t be fair 
for you, and what isn’t fair for you wouldn’t be 


In the Hands of the Indians 31 

right and square for me. That duck would be an 
evener trade.” 

“The duck’s Tom’s, and I won’t let him in on 
this deal. Take the gobbler and give me the jack 
and that cat and I’ll never go back on my bar- 
gain.” 

So I let him have the fish, for I knew the turkey 
would go farther for meat, and that would leave 
my father and me more time for chopping on our 
inlot. As they were going to the station I asked 
Kenton to leave it at the gate while I stayed out 
to fish longer. 

“Don’t let the Indians ambush you. There’s a 
big band of them out. They crossed the river at 
Eagle Creek and have gone back by Flemings to 
steal horses and do their usual mischief.” 

Tom ’s eyes were snapping and he said : 

“I saw three of them last night when I was 
hunting the cows. I told father and Simon and 
they went back with me. We found their canoes 
and they won’t cross the river in them.” 

“We have warned the settlers and stations, and 
we want to ambush them. We are going to Massie 
for help. Come on boys, the sun will soon be up, 
and I said we would be back an hour after sun-up. ’ ’ 

Simon Kenton lived at Washington in Kentucky, 


32 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

five miles from Limestone, which is now called 
Maysville. He was a veteran Indian fighter. He 
had been captured, made to run the gantlet, and 
three times had been condemned by the Indians to 
be burned but each time had been rescued, and 
finally had made his escape from captivity. 

Kenton did not get the aid he wanted, for by the 
rules of the station the men were bound to remain 
in the stockade when danger was impending, unless 
by a full vote some of them were allowed to be 
absent. 

His story about the Indian raid made me uneasy. 
I kept turning around to look up and down the 
shore, and the wind swaying the bushes made me 
suspicious that Indians were lurking there. This 
took my mind from my fishing so that I caught but 
two half-sized catfish. Then I had a bite from a 
big fish, but I was excited and over eager and drew 
him under a snag; and in a minute the line was 
broken and my hook lost. 

“My luck’s gone. I may as well stop,” I said 
to myself, and wound up my line. I saw Kenton’s 
men getting into their canoe as I slipped down the 
trunk of the big tulip tree on which I had been 
sitting, and answered Tom’s hail. Although I had 
a fine string of fish, yet the nearer I came to the 


In the Hands of the Indians 33 

gate the slower grew my steps. I began to remem- 
ber that my father did not know where I had gone, 
and if he had missed me would have good reason 
for finding fault with me for causing anxiety at 
home. I had forgotten about the corn I was to 
pound up for our breakfast, and he would be sure 
to have something to say about that if my mother 
was up and wanted the meal. When I reached the 
gate and took up the gobbler I saw Susie and she 
ran to meet me. 

“ Where have you been, Morris? Poppy was 
looking for you everywhere, and Mommy is crying 
because she thinks the Indians have got you. Did 
you catch all those fish, and where did you get the 
gobbler?” 

“Come along and you will know” I answered 
running ahead, hoping my load of meat would take 
the edge off of my father’s displeasure. 

“Here you come, at last, you young rascal. You 
have made no end of trouble by running off this 
morning. Your mother’s nearly sick with anxiety 
about you.” 

i ‘ But father, I waked up real early and I thought 
a mess of fish would do mother good, and see what 
I got.” 


34 


Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

“Did you fish the gobbler out of the river 
Susie asked with a laugh. 

“Mebbe, I did,” I answered, and then told them 
about my trade with Kenton. 

Father was pleased with my success but he did 
not praise me much for my skill, and he went on 
to give me some serious advice about running such 
risks of being killed by going out alone, without 
letting him know where I was. I suppose I needed 
such talk, for I remembered it afterward and it 
was a guide to me in those perilous times that soon 
followed. 

Mr. Massie called the men together to talk over 
the situation, and two scouts were sent out to dis- 
cover if any Indians were lurking about. None 
were discovered, and it was the opinion that the 
whole band had crossed over into Kentucky to steal 
horses. We hoped they would be driven back be- 
fore they could torture and murder any of the 
settlers; but we knew that there were many iso- 
lated cabins, where the families would be caught 
off their guard and the old horrors be repeated. 

In the afternoon the usual work went on out- 
side the stockade. Each member of the company 
had received one inlot and an outlot of four acres, 
and the promise of one hundred acres at the end 


In the Hands of the Indians 35 

of two years if he lived up to the terms of the con- 
tract. The men, for mutual protection, usually 
worked together, going from lot to lot by turns. 
The guards were vigilant, hut no signs of the 
enemy were discovered and the day passed very 
quietly. 

That evening Mr. Massie came to our cabin after 
supper, and sat on a block at the door. I was 
pounding meal and father cleaning his gun. 

‘ ‘ George, I am going up the river in the morning 
to survey some land below Hurricane Hill. Wil- 
liam Lytle and Israel Donalson are going with me. 
The other men are busy with their chopping and 
I don’t like to stop their work. I need one more 
to carry chain, and would like Morris to do it for 
me. He ’s a big lad and will do very well . ’ 9 

“Do you think it will be safe?” father inquired, 
and mother asked the same question with her eyes 
as she looked out of the cabin door. 

“It is as safe as any undertaking. Those In- 
dians have not come this way. I will take good 
care of him.” 

“Let me go, father,” I pleaded, with all the 
eagerness of a boy who loves adventure. “You 
want me to be a surveyor and I ought to be learn- 
ing the business . 9 9 


36 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

“I will teach him all I can, and it is the most 
profitable business in this frontier region. He will 
earn a good doeskin by two days’ work.” 

Father was pleased at this promise, but mother 
did not consent until some more explanations of 
the Indian trails showed it was a pretty safe local- 
ity. There was a blockhouse, also, over on the 
Kentucky side. Your great-grandmother, Morris, 
was a brave woman who did not shrink from 
danger, but she used her common-sense about it. 
I knew she had some high notions about my grow- 
ing up to be a man of force and she wanted me to 
learn to act a man’s part. If she seemed more 
cautious than usual it was because she had been 
sickly for several weeks. 

About six o’clock the next morning we set off 
in a canoe, toiling slowly against the strong cur- 
rent. We landed near the mouth of a small stream 
that has been called Donalson’s Creek from that 
day. After we had measured off nearly a half a 
mile along the river bank the chain broke, and 
Massie held it on a stone while General Lytle ham- 
mered the links together with a tomahawk. 

“Who are those?” I asked, for I caught sight of 
eight men jumping out of a canoe a little way up 
the river. 


In the Hands of the Indians 37 

“They have come over from the blockhouse” 
Israel replied pointing to three men over on the 
Kentucky shore watching them. 

“Perhaps they are Frenchies from our New 
Paris on the Ohio, ’ ’ said Lytle. 

“I think they are Indians,” I answered. “We 
would have seen them crossing if they had come 
from the blockhouse. And those old blankets don’t 
look like a new style of dress from Paris. They 
have crept down the river close to the hank.” 

“Morris is right and we must run,” said Mr. 
Massie catching up his Jacob’s staff. At that in- 
stant the savages saw us and raised a yell. We fled 
along the bank and kept our distance till we 
reached the creek. The banks were about ten feet 
apart. 

“Can you make it, Morris?” Massie asked. 

“Easy,” I answered, and jumped across first of 
all. Massie and Lytle got over, but Donalson ’s foot 
caught in a vine and he went into the water with 
a splash. Before he could flounder out three In- 
dians were on him, all armed, and he quietly sur- 
rendered. 

“They’ve got Israel,” I cried, as I glanced back, 
and fear lent wings to my feet, so that I outran 
the others and pushed the canoe into the river. 


38 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

They jumped in and we were out of range before 
the Indians reached the spot, so they gave up the 
chase. 

There was a great stir at the station as our 
friends saw us racing down as fast as our paddles 
could drive us along, and a gloomy sorrow settled 
over our little company, as we realized that one 
of our best men was gone to be a slave if his life 
was spared, or to die by torture if his captors were 
cruel and bloodthirsty. 

After a council, Mr. Massie advised us not to 
attempt a rescue in this case, when the hand was 
so large. If it should fail the Indians would kill 
Donalson out of revenge. If they were not mo- 
lested he might he treated kindly and have a chance 
to escape. 

No Indians came near the station. In the eve- 
ning Tom came over to tell us that Kenton’s plan 
has succeeded, and some of the Indians had been 
killed. He said Kenton wanted us to he on the 
watch, for other Indians were near, and out of re- 
venge for their losses they would kill every man 
they might catch. Kenton had crossed the river 
with his company and was in pursuit of the In- 
dians. 


CHAPTER IH 


IN THE FOG 

After a few days the station settled down to its 
usual quiet. We heard from Captain Kenton that 
his company marched up as far as the Indian vil- 
lage of Old Chillicothe on the Little Miami river, 
hut the Indians had taken alarm and abandoned it, 
and therefore the rangers returned home without 
having an engagement with the enemy. 

Then Mr. Massie said we were all falling into the 
dumps and that we needed something new to stir 
us up and to drive away the cloud of sorrow. So ' 
he sent me over with a message to Tom Anderson 
to invite about a dozen couples to come over to the 
station the next afternoon, stay to supper and have 
a dance in the evening. 

Although Tom and I were good friends I had 
never been out to his home. I found him living in 
a large cabin not far from Simon Kenton’s big 
double cabin, and a mile beyond were Parson Fin- 
ley’s home and farm, and a larger building used 
for a church and academy. Tom entered into the 

39 


40 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

proposed sport with eager delight, and Kenton was 
as ready for a night’s frolic as he was for an In- 
dian fight. He promised to take charge of the 
flotilla of canoes so that the hoys and girls would 
run no risk of capture, and that he would bring 
along John McDonald and Duncan McArthur, who 
were worth a dozen men for guards. Tom and I 
then went back to Limestone, which was about five 
miles from Kenton’s, and there we saw the young 
people and found them ready enough to accept the 
invitations. 

The next day, soon after the noon hour, we saw 
the line of canoes coming up the river. When they 
were about a mile below us the occupants of the 
foremost ceased paddling and waited till the rear 
boat was in line. All our little company of men 
and women were gathered on the hank to watch 
our guests come up. Then we saw a puff of smoke, 
and a few second later heard a shot, and the canoes 
all rushed forward through the water in an exciting 
race. Kenton’s canoe was the best manned so took 
the lead and kept it, coming up several lengths 
ahead of McArthur’s. 

The frisky Kentuckians at once started a round 
of fun and jollity that was kept up until nine 
o’clock. We had provided fish, birds and venison, 


4i 


In the Fog 

and had a good supper. There were dances on the 
open lot outside the stockade in the afternoon, and 
races, and trials of skill with our guns. Before 
sunset we had our supper, and then came a dozen 
dances in the largest blockhouse, in which Massie 
lived. The tall Kentuckians had to bend low as 
they whirled through the simple figures, and now 
and then a head got a hard bump from the low 
beams above. At nine o ’clock Kenton thanked Mr. 
Massie and all of us, in a little speech and mar- 
shaled his company to return to their homes. Mr. 
Massie replied that we were debtors for the favor 
since the pleasure of that evening would drive 
away our cares for a time, and give us more life 
and spirit for our hard work. 

A few days later I woke up before daylight, 
dropped down from my loft, opened the bed of 
coals and made up the fire. Father got out of bed 
and in a few minutes said he would go out to the 
lot and chop till breakfast was ready. As he took 
his gun and ax I offered to go with him, and he 
consented. There did not seem much danger, as 
our lot was in sight of the nearest blockhouse 
where one of the men was posted as a watchman. 

“Two rifles will be better than one if the Indians 
should appear, so come along.” 


42 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

As we walked out father’s mind seemed to dwell 
on the dangers surrounding us. 

1 ‘ Morris, you are old enough to understand many 
serious matters. I am going to talk to you as if 
you were a man, and I hope you will remember 
what I say.” 

“I will try to remember. But I forget a good 
many things I ought to hold on to. Mr. Massie 
says what we forget is like the wild plums that fall 
off the trees till the ground is covered; and the 
things we remember are like the few left in the top 
of the tree out of reach. ’ 9 

“That is about so. All the more need we have 
to fix the best things in our mind by giving atten- 
tion to them. But to go on with what I was saying, 
our life here in the Indian country is full of peril, 
and in spite of all our caution one of our number 
has been caught. My turn may come next, and then 
the care of the family will fall upon you. Your 
mother has a brave spirit naturally, but she is 
sickly now, and if I am taken away you must sup- 
port the family. You will have to think like a man 
and do a man’s part. Do you understand V 9 

“Yes, father. I think you mean that I shall have 
no time for play, but must give my time to my 
work, and fix my mind on it. I will do my best. ’ ’ 


In the Fog 43 

“Your shoulders are young for such a load and 
we will hope that nothing may happen to me. ’ ’ 

I was surprised at his solemn way of talking and 
asked why he felt so. 

“I do not know why this unusual feeling has 
come over me this morning. Perhaps it is sent as 
a warning of danger, and we will be extra spry to 
watch for redskins. My boy, you sometimes act in 
a hasty impulsive way, out of your love for your 
mother and me, like your going out fishing last 
week to save my time. Although it turned out well, 
it was very risky for a boy to go out alone so early. 
When you get into danger think fast and act at 
once, but do not run into danger without thinking 
out beforehand what you are going to do . 9 9 

By this time we had come to the little clearing 
on our inlot where several trees had been felled 
a few days before Israel had been captured. 
Father leaned his gun against the tree he intended 
to cut into logs, but before swinging his ax he 
said: 

“One thing more, my son. As a member of the 
company, Mr. Massie has transferred to me this 
inlot and the outlot of four acres. If I stay here 
two years I shall get a deed for one hundred acres 
of land up the river, good land worth having. But 


44 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

if anything should happen to me before that time 
I do not know whether it would come to the family. 
If you should take my place, Mr. Massie would 
surely deed the land to your mother and you would 
have a fine farm there. ” 

“You can depend on me to stick to the station 
and get the land for mother. ’ 9 
“All right, my son,” father replied, lifting his 
ax and making the hig chips fly. I was at work 
in the top, cutting off the smaller branches with my 
tomahawk. After awhile I wondered that the sun 
did not rise and looked about to find that a heavy 
fog was spreading inland from the river, and that 
already the station had disappeared from sight, 
and only the nearest trees could he seen. 

I spoke to father about it and he said we must 
return home at once. I cut a limber branch from a 
wild grape vine and twisted it around a bundle of 
hickory bark for mother to use in starting the fire. 
Father took up a load of wood on his left arm and 
turned to reach his gun. There was no wind, no 
sound of rustling leaves in the still damp air, hut 
something made him turn and look back and a 
shudder shook his frame as he saw an Indian’s 
form, dimly outlined in the mist, following me in 
the path to the station. 


CHAPTER IV 


WHY I HAD TO SUPPORT THE FAMILY 

My father was a resolute man and in an instant 
he had overcome the horrible sensation that shook 
him as he discovered my peril. Dropping his wood 
he took quick aim and drew the trigger, hut the 
dampened powder would not catch the spark. He 
tried again without success and then sprang for- 
ward and struck the redskin, who had heard the 
click of the trigger and faced about and lifted his 
tomahawk. The Indian’s arm fell helpless, hut be- 
fore father could give him another blow his arms 
were seized from behind and his mouth filled with 
mud, so that he could not yell. 

I was scared. What boy would not be at such an 
attack? When I tried to yell I only gasped out a 
faint cry that no one heard, but I could act, and my 
trusty rifle was drawn to my shoulder. It was in 
vain, however, that I tried to aim at the Indians, 
for they were moving my father’s body about be- 
tween me and themselves, and in a moment another 
big fellow came behind me, seized me and tore my 

45 


46 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

rifle from my hands. I was hut an infant in the 
power of this savage giant. In less time than I can 
tell you our mouths were tied, our guns and tools 
gathered up and four Indians dragged us away into 
the silence of the unbroken forest. 

Although resistance was useless, I did not at once 
submit to my capture, but struggled with the In- 
dians, and kicked out viciously right and left. This 
angered one of them and he broke off a sprout and 
cut me savagely several times. Then my father, 
by a look and shake of the head, admonished me to 
cease my vain struggling, which of course would 
only enrage our captors and render our situation 
more desperate. 

We were now forced into a rapid march and run 
for two hours, until we had left the station far be- 
hind and had come into the high land below West 
Union. I mean, of course, where West Union now 
is, for then there was not a cabin north of our 
station. 

By a clear rill the party sat down to eat, hut al- 
though we were faint with hunger they did not give 
us even a hone to gnaw. The one who had at first 
attacked me looked at his broken arm, now greatly 
swollen, and evidently causing him much pain, al- 
though he uttered no groans. He walked around 


Why I Had to Support the Family 47 

a few minutes, and then came to us and kicked 
father, and then me, with all his force. He must 
have broken one of father’s ribs. I carried the 
marks of his savage hate on my legs for many 
days. 

But the big Indian, who was a mild-looking man 
and who seemed to be their chief, took him by the 
shoulders and shook him off, and then said some- 
thing at which they all laughed. Of course, I could 
not understand it, and I never felt less like laugh- 
ing in all my life. 

These men I afterwards knew were Shawanoese 
from the Scioto region, and you must remember 
this big chief, for perhaps you will learn some- 
thing more of him before I have told you all my 
story. He evidently claimed me for his captive, 
but the wounded Indian, who was as ugly and 
treacherous as any redskin you ever heard of, dis- 
puted his claim, and was for leading me off him- 
self when they started again. The difficulty was 
adjusted by more talk, and several times that day 
the chief protected me from the brutal attacks of 
the other. 

They took the gags out of our mouths and let us 
get a drink of water, which was refreshing. The 
sun was more than two hours high, and it was 


48 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

about this time that mother became very uneasy at 
our prolonged absence and sent Susie out to look 
for us at the blockhouses. As she didn’t find us, 
the station men all came to our cabin. The watch- 
man reported that we had gone out to the inlot with 
our tools and he had seen us at work there until the 
fog came down. When the sun rose his duties were 
over and he thought no more about us. 

Mr. Massie took Andrew Ellison and went out 
to make a search for us. They found the fresh 
chips and the traces of the struggle, and followed 
the Indian trail for a short distance till there was 
no doubt that we had been surprised and carried 
away. The watchman, when examined again, said 
he had heard a slight noise but no shouts or calls, 
and supposed it was the sound of our work. 

Mr. Massie ’s report confirmed my mother’s 
worst fears. For three weeks she had been sick 
with one of those fevers that prevailed in the river 
valleys of the West in those early days. She had 
struggled against it, some days being able to be up, 
and then having another severe attack. The deadly 
poison was in the air and all the time working in 
her system. Robbed now, by one fell stroke, of 
husband and only son, she had little strength to re- 
sist the cruel blow. While Mr. Massie was organiz- 


Why I Had to Support the Family 49 

ing a company to pursue the Indians and if possible 
to rescue us, she nerved herself to hear and to take 
part in the plans. 

“Oh, Mr. Massie!” she cried with streaming 
eyes, “You will follow them till you find them and 
you will not come back without them. ’ 9 

Massie’s tender heart was touched by her deep 
grief, and he answered with a solemn assurance. 

“Mrs. Patterson, we will do our utmost to save 
them both. It is a small party and they have not 
gone far yet, and the trail is fresh, so that we can 
follow it easily, I think. Keep up your courage and 
pray to God to guide us right and to give us suc- 
cess. Here comes John McDonald. If he can go 
with us he will give us most effective help. 9 ’ 

By this time John had come to the group, and 
Massie explained the situation to him, adding, 
“Can you join our party at once. The rest are 
all on the trigger and time is precious. ’ ’ 

“I came over for a deer hunt and I am ready to 
go with you. Come on. ’ ’ 

The party of ten men then started on a run, for 
two of our best scouts had been sent ahead to pick 
out the trail. But in the course of the day’s march 
they were misled by the wily conduct of the In- 
dians, who had carried us for miles along the trail 


Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

of another band, shrewdly abandoning it at a point 
where the diverging of onr party wonld not be sus- 
pected and could not be easily found. 

The Indians halted for their noon rest near a 
large spring that was a famous deerlick. As they 
had only a slender stock of meat, they probably 
hoped to kill a buck, for they tied us securely to 
trees near by and then scattered out to watch the 
spring and runways. This gave us an opportunity 
to talk which might be, we feared, our only one, and 
the events that followed impressed my father's af- 
fectionate counsel on my mind like words graven 
on a monument. 

“My son, after bringing this calamity on you and 
on your dear mother it may seem like fool's talk 
for me to give you advice. Forgive your father, 
who should have taken better care of you. ' ' 

“Do not blame yourself, father, for you could 
not have helped it. That mist hid the approach of 
the Indians, and there was no sign of fog when we 
started out. It came down very suddenly.” 

“I know that, Morris, but I remember now that 
I smelled it before it came and I ought to have 
taken you home at once. I did not think at the 
time what it was. These barbarous Indians are 
sharp; they won't let us talk long, and we may be 


Why I Had to Support the Family 51 

separated very soon. So now listen to what I have 
thought out as we came along. 

“I shall escape if I can; hut I think the Indians 
will kill me out of revenge, as soon as they hear 
that Kenton has killed some of their warriors in 
Kentucky. They will he sure to spare your life, 
for that big fellow seems to fancy you, and as he 
looks like a kind man I hope he will adopt you. 
But whatever becomes of you, you must not be- 
come an Indian. Escape as soon as you can with 
safety, and return to take care of your mother and 
Susie. ’ ’ 

“I promise you, father, that I will never he an 
Indian. The dirty, treacherous, cruel savages 
cannot make me one of them. I may for a time 
agree to what they propose, to throw them off 
their guard and so make it easier to run away. ’ ’ 

“That’s the right talk, Morris. Remember 
you belong to an honorable race of liberty-loving 
men. Thousands of Scotch-Irish like your grand- 
father have come over to America because they 
loved liberty. They suffered for it in the wilder- 
ness and fought for it under Washington, as I 
did. This country, our free Republic, is the in- 
heritance we leave to our children. Be worthy 
of it; be proud of being an American; love your 


52 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

country; cherish the great principles of human 
freedom; defend it and preserve its honor.” 

Never have I forgotten that solemn charge of 
my father. It has been more than a motto. I 
have thought over it until it has become a fixed 
principle with me, not merely the mould of my 
opinions, hut, higher still, the spring of my ac- 
tions in the great and decisive events of my life. 
And I now write it down for your guidance, my 
namesake, in the hope that it may he a guide and 
inspiration to you also. 

But soon we saw the Indians returning and I 
had only time for a brief answer. 

“I shall not forget your words. I will watch 
day and night for a chance to escape, and when 
it comes I will go hack to mother and Susie and 
take care of them. I will tiy to he a man from 
this hour, a man you will not he ashamed of if you 
live, as I hope you will. Oh God save us both and 
bring us both home again. ’ ’ 

No doubt God heard my prayer, and He an- 
swered it ere long, in part, at least. But my words 
reached the foremost Indian, and his answer was 
a heavy blow that half stunned me, so that I hung 
against the tug that bound me to the tree. The 
leader came and loosened my bonds, and when I 


Why I Had to Support the Family 53 

opened my eyes I was lying on the ground. He 
kindly gave me a drink of water and spoke in a 
soothing way to me, and then very vigorously to 
the cruel man who had hurt me. The band had 
killed a deer and were cooking large chunks of it 
over the fire. After awhile they gave us a liberal 
amount and I ate my dinner with a ravenous ap- 
petite, for I was very hungry. 

The sun was an hour past the noon line before 
we went on again, nor did we stop until the night 
dews were beginning to fall. I knew we were 
twenty or twenty-five miles from home. I could 
hardly drag along, and father was all used up, 
for he had been compelled to carry part of the 
meat. 

When some of it was at last broiling nicely on 
sticks near the fire, the sweet smell revived me, 
and I enjoyed my supper and felt refreshed. We 
were still eating, when two Indians came into our 
camp with some kind of bad news, which excited 
the four men. They talked and powwowed for 
at least half an hour; then the big kind-hearted 
leader and another man ordered my father to take 
up his load of meat, and pointed to the West. 
One of the strange Indians also rose to go with 
him. 


54 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

My father got up very wearily and lifted his 
pack, for our hands had been untied since noon. 

“Good-by, Morris, God help you now. I shall 
never see you again. Tell your mother and Susie 
my last thoughts were of them.” 

I answered as best I could for my heart sank 
and my voice broke. In a moment they were 
gone. I thought of all the things I might have 
said to cheer my father and show my love for 
him, and then I wished that I had been a better 
boy and had not given him so much trouble. 

The three Indians built up the fire and pre- 
pared to camp all night. They fixed a place for 
me between two of them, stretching the ends of 
my long leather bond on each side, and lying on 
them in such a way that I could not move without 
waking them. In a few minutes they were sound 
asleep, but an hour passed and another, and I 
was wide awake, thinking and planning how I 
might escape. 

The fire made considerable light, and as I had 
raised my head to look about I saw something 
moving and then crawling from one tree to an- 
other. At first it frightened me to think a bear 
or a wolf was so near and my hands were tied 
securely. Then I was glad, for there might be a 


Why I Had to Support the Family 55 

chance to escape if any brute or human enemy 
attacked us. So I lay perfectly still, ready to take 
advantage of any change of position. All was 
quiet, hut in two or three minutes a head ap- 
peared by the side of a tree not ten feet away, 
and I knew the intruder was a man. After a 
quick survey there was a low whisper. 

“Boy, be you awake ?” 

“Yes. Who are you?” 

“A friend. I’ll save you. Kin you cut your 
tug with my knife?” 

“Yes.” 

“Lie still till I fetch it to you.” 

I saw him get the three Indian guns, and take 
them away. Then a knife was held out and 
placed in my hand. I took it, and its sharp edge 
divided the deerskin rope around my body. I 
could not easily release my wrists so the unknown 
friend took the knife and cut the bonds and I was 
free. 

“Lie still till I shoot the redskin on each side 
of you. Don’t be skeert, for I won’t hurt you. As 
soon as both guns go off jump behind that near- 
dest tree and you’ll find a tomahawk there.” 

The stranger did not give me time to be afraid. 
Almost immediately one gun and then another 


56 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

was fired off right in my ears, and the bullets 
went to the brains of the two sleeping Indians. 
I scrambled to my feet and ran for the weapon 
to help my benefactor if he should need it. But 
the two Indians were fatally wounded and the 
third one fled in the darkness. I saw the white 
man follow him, but he was not fleet enough to 
catch him and soon returned to finish his work 
by scalping the dead men. 

I will not horrify you by describing these 
dreadful acts in detail. For some reason un- 
known to me, this strange man seemed possessed 
by a desperate spirit of ferocity and hatred to- 
wards these enemies, and his chief regret was 
that one had escaped. I did not care what be- 
came of the third man if he did not return to 
molest us, but the stranger did not agree with 
me. 

“ Every Injun is our enemy an’ it’s right to 
kill the beasts. If this one jines the others that 
has yer daddy they will kill him before morning. 
I must foller him as soon as I can hide ye in a 
safe place.’ ’ 

“Let me go along. That’s my gun and I can 
shoot, and I must help save my father.” 

“Ye’re are tuckered out with yer all day 


Why I Had to Support the Family 57 

march. If the redskins hev camped whar I think 
they be it’s a good step from here, mebbe seven 
miles. Can ye run that fur?” 

“I’m rested now a bit. I must go with you. 
Who are you, and how did you know my father 
and I were here?” 

“I’m Josh. I were watchin’ this band and saw 
ye both at the deerlick. Now ye must put yer 
best foot foremost if ye want to see yer daddy 
agin alive.” 


CHAPTER V 


THE LODGE IN THE HOLLOW TREE 

While we were talking we loaded our guns; 
then Josh gathered up the guns, knives and am- 
munition of the Indians and concealed them some- 
where near by. This strange man seemed to 
know where he was, and to follow some signs 
which I could not perceive, for he ran straight on 
without stopping to take observations. Although 
there was no moon it was not a dark night, and 
as the trees were still hare the stars gave us suf- 
ficient light to see our way. 

We had walked and run about an hour when 
Josh halted and told me to go very softly. In a 
few minutes he beckoned me to wait behind a 
large beech tree. He soon came back disap- 
pointed. 

i 1 They are not here. We must try the camp- 
ing-place northwest of this.” 

We crossed the creek, wound around some hills, 
and went on rapidly for a half hour, when he 
posted me again by a tree and crept away towards 

58 



I < 


I FOLLOWED HIM AS HE STOLE FROM TREE TO TREE" 




59 


The Lodge in the Hollow Tree 

a fire to make discoveries. Hardly had he gone 
when I heard an unearthly, blood-curdling yell, 
the like of which I have never heard before or 
since. Instantly Josh returned. 

“We are too late, I reckon. But there’s only 
four of ’em, an’ we kin punish ’em. Look to yer 
priming, boy. Step light now.” 

I followed him as he stole from tree to tree, 
drawing near a group of four men plainly to he 
seen by the firelight. Josh pointed to one, and 
took aim at another, who was bending over my 
father’s body. We fired together and our victims 
fell. The others fled, and although Josh followed 
them, loading as he ran, and was gone some time, 
he finally came hack without catching either. 

I knelt above my father’s body, which was still 
warm, calling to him that I was there, begging 
him to speak. There was no reply, no breath 
came through his dear lips, and his heart had 
ceased beating. 

When Josh came back he found me bitterly 
weeping, and calling on my father to come back, 
not to leave me there alone in the forest. 

“ There sonny, be quiet. Yer father’s gone. 
His spirit is at rest. He is done with the tumults 
and sorrers of earth, an’ has gone to be one of 


60 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

the saints in a better land. We cannot stay here 
long for those redskins may come back. I’m 
sorry to hnrry ye m yer grief, but we must bury 
yer daddy now and go away.” 

Josh found an old rotting log not far away and 
to it we carried my father’s mangled form and 
buried it in a shallow grave, which we dug with 
our knives and hands. After covering it with the 
earth we rolled the old log over. Then with my 
tomahawk I marked the place by blazing the trees 
all around it. Though I have searched for the 
sacred spot several times, I have never been able 
to find it ; but I know his spirit is living, and that 
some day, perhaps not far hence, I shall meet him 
in the land of the leal. 

Josh took me in a southeast direction through 
a swamp that concealed our trail, and down a 
creek flowing from it. The long journeys, with 
the great excitement and sorrow of the night, be- 
gan to tell on my strength. My legs ached, my 
back felt as limber as a willow sprout, and the 
gun I carried weighed on my shoulder like fifty 
pounds of lead. I lagged more and more, and my 
guide kindly stopped to rest a little while. In less 
than an hour he rose and took my gun, encourag- 
ing me to proceed, by saying we would soon come 


The Lodge in the Hollow Tree 61 

to a safer resting place, where I could sleep till 
noon. 

About a mile farther on we entered another 
swamp, just as day was breaking. Josh threaded 
his way through it as if he knew the spots that 
would bear our weight and soon brought me to 
an island of higher ground where the soil was 
firm and dry. Here were some fine large trees 
in a circle around an open space more than a hun- 
dred feet in diameter. In the center stood the 
column of one of those gigantic trees sometimes 
found in the woods in those early days. Now, 
they have either died or have been thoughtlessly 
cut down. 

You, little Morris, have often played under the 
great elm behind the Methodist Church on Wal- 
nut and Second Street, and so you can believe 
what I tell you of this tree on the island in the 
swamp. It was one of the largest sycamores I 
have ever seen. The trunk was ten feet in di- 
ameter, and about fifteen feet from the ground it 
divided into three great branches, each of which 
would be considered a very large tree at this time. 

We crawled through a low opening and there 
was a cavity as large as many a cabin in those 
days. Josh climbed up by some projections I 


62 


Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

could not see in the dark interior, and threw down 
a bearskin, then descended bringing a frying pan 
and a buckskin pouch containing a little salt. 

“Ye need sleep more than grub. Lie down on 
that barskin and get yer sleep out. Indians won’t 
find ye here. I’ll get a turkey and hev a dinner 
for ye by noon.” 

No urging was necessary. Without a word I 
dropped on the rug, and knew no more until the 
sun was high in the heavens. Then I rolled over 
and stretched myself, and as the pleasant smell of 
frying meat came in the low doorway I rose and 
went out. 

Josh was stooping over the fire, turning some 
turkey meat in the pan. 

“I’m hungry as a bear, and I’m glad you have 
plenty of meat.” 

“You’ve had a fine nap. Help yourself from 
that chiny platter,” Josh replied, pointing to a 
large piece of bark covered with juicy legs and 
wings nicely browned. I fell to at once and made 
a hearty dinner. 

Now I had my first look at my deliverer. He 
seemed to be nearly six feet in height, of slender 
build. His head was long and narrow, but well 
shaped, his eyes gray, his nose bent like an eagle’s 


The Lodge in the Hollow Tree 63 

beak, and the firm month and chin indicated a 
strong willed man of great decision of character. 
His hair and beard had once been dark red, bnt 
were now streaked with gray. At a first look one 
wonld have taken him to be fifty years old, bnt a 
closer scrutiny wonld have brought the conclusion 
that he was much younger, and that some great 
calamity or bitter sorrow had whitened his locks 
before their time. 

Men of his type are apt to be good but narrow 
in their views. Convictions of duty once formed 
are to them like a voice from Heaven to be obeyed 
at all hazards and to the end of time. As I think 
of him now I can better understand his character, 
which for some time was very perplexing to me. 

“Is this your home, Josh?” 

“One of them. It’s a lodge in the wilderness. 
Home, I hev none now. ’ ’ 

“Who are you, and where did you come from? 
What’s your last name?” 

“I’m Josh. Joshua, the Avenger of the Chil- 
dren of the Lord. I live in the forest to protect 
them from their enemies. Do ye live at Massie’s 
station?” 

“Yes,” I replied, not noticing at once that he 
had not answered my questions. 


64 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

“You hev a mother, and be there other chil- 
dren V 9 

My grief returned as I answered his questions. 
He had a wonderful power of sympathy and very 
tenderly he comforted my wretched heart by his 
homely talk and advice. 

When our dinner was finished Josh said we 
must start back to the station to relieve the anxi- 
ety of my mother as soon as possible. He washed 
the frying pan and hung it and the bearskin on 
their pegs high up in the tree, then removed all 
traces of our stay on the island. Before we 
started he took down from the hollow a small iron 
trap, which he carried with him. 

As we walked along I once more asked about 
himself, but he adroitly turned the talk to other 
subjects. Seeing he did not choose to unveil the 
mystery of his strange life, I respected his 
silence, and refrained from any further effort to 
satisfy my curiosity about it. We came to a small 
stream along which he showed me traces of the 
work of beavers, and waded out into the water 
to set his trap in a bank near some small trees. 

About the middle of the afternoon Josh stopped 
and listened, but I could detect no sound. 


The Lodge in the Hollow Tree 65 

“Stop here. Somebody is coming/ ’ So say- 
ing he crept np the hill, hut soon returned. 

“Morris, yer friends hev come out to find ye. 
Go on to the top of the hill an’ ye’ll see them. 
Goodby, hoy. Be a good son to yer mother, an 
always be true to yer people an yer kentry.” 

He took my hand and wrung it hard, and would 
have gone at once, but I clung to him. 

“Josh, you are coming too. My mother will 
want to see you and you can live at our cabin/ ’ 

“No, boy, I must go back to the woods and 
watch out fer the Indians/’ 

“You must come home with me and stay awhile. 
Why should you live out in the forest all alone?” 

But he pulled his hand from my grasp and 
brushed it across his eyes. 

“I’d like to do it, Morris. I take to ye mighty 
strong. Ye’re a good boy an’ it’s a comfort to me 
to know I saved ye and to hev yer company fer 
a day. I’d like right well to hev ye with me, or 
to live at yer home, an I thank ye fer askin’ me. 
But the settlers an’ the sojers are not my friends. 
They mis j edge me, an’ all the time I allow I’m 
a guard to them, an’ when they don’t know it. 
So I must go back to my work in the woods an’ 
protect them.” 


66 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

As he said this he looked at me in a kind, tender 
manner, and as soon as he had finished walked 
away into a clump of hushes and disappeared. I 
called after him and then ran down the hill a little 
way. He was already at the bottom but turned 
to wave his hand. In a moment the trees hid him 
from my sight. 

I was grieved to part with him so abruptly, and 
now I remembered that I had not thanked him for 
saving my life. I regretted this very much and 
hoped he was not offended. His mysterious 
words about the settlers were puzzling, but told 
the reason why he wanted to avoid being seen by 
Mr. Massie and our men. Massie must be close 
at hand. Running to the hill top I saw the party 
two hundred yards below. 

I shouted to them and called out my name, as 
I ran down to them. They were overjoyed to 
find me safe, but were filled with sorrow and 
sympathy when they heard of my father’s death. 
They wondered about the stranger, but none knew 
him. At first they thought it might be Louis 
Weitzel, or one of his brothers, but when I de- 
scribed Josh they knew he was not one of that 
family. 

“It is someone from Pennsylvania or Virginia 


The Lodge in the Hollow Tree 67 

whose family has been massacred, and he has 
sought to avenge their death,’ ’ said John Mc- 
Donald. 

4 4 It is very probable,” added Massie, 4 4 that the 
Indians have complained of his ravages, and Gen- 
eral Harmar and the Marietta settlers have tried 
to catch him and have threatened to punish him 
for stirring up trouble. That is why he distrusts 
and avoids us. ’ ’ 

It was the middle of the next morning before 
we reached the station. I will not describe the 
mingled joy and sorrow of my mother. She was 
prostrated by her afflictions, and a few days after- 
ward the bilious fever returned and we had no 
proper remedies to check it. 

When Simon Kenton heard of our trouble he 
came over in a large row boat, bringing a cow, 
which he gave me. 

4 4 We are all sorry for you, Morris. You keep 
up a good heart and we will look out for you. The 
milk will be good for your mother.” 

4 4 You are the kindest man, Mr. Kenton,” said 
my mother. 4 4 Everybody has been good to us, 
and I thank you all. Except for so much kind- 
ness I don’t know what would become of us.” 

4 4 Mother, you forget me,” I cried out, with a 


68 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

little hurt feeling in my heart. “I am strong and 
able to work, and there isn’t much to do that I 
can’t do. I promised father I would support the 
family and I am going to do it.” 

“I believe you will, Morris, for you are a plucky 
boy for your size, ’ ’ Kenton replied, as he rose to 
say goodby to my mother. 

Mr. Massie offered to let me pasture the cow 
on the upper island, where she could not stray 
and would be safe from the Indians. As we were 
planting com on the lower island we would be 
near to watch her. 

My mother grew rapidly worse and the next 
week sank under her troubles, leaving Susie and 
me alone in the world. I must pass over that sor- 
rowful time. Our friends comforted us, and Tom 
Anderson came to spend a week with me, which 
helped me very much. Several families offered 
to adopt Susie, who was a strong, smart girl, but 
I refused to let her go away from me, for I 
needed, more than ever, someone to love. 

“We will live together,” I said in reply to 
every such offer. “ Susie is all I have left, and 
I am big enough to take care of my little sister. 
I promised, you know. I told father I would sup- 
port the family, and he expects me to do it. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER VI 


A TRIP TO LOSANTIVILLE 

One morning in May we finished planting onr 
corn an hour after breakfast. Then four of the 
men went out to hunt, Mr. Massie wrote some let- 
ters, and no general work was taken up by the 
rest of the company that day. Some were making 
their cabins more comfortable, a few splitting 
wood, while two were making an ash-hopper in 
which to leach the ashes so that the women could 
boil down some soap. 

I was down on the long slope that stretched 
from the top of the bank to the river, getting some 
yellow clay to repair the chimney in our cabin, 
and Susie was not far from me pulling up greens 
for our dinner. 

“ There comes Tom,” Susie said, shading her 
eyes as she looked down the river. The next 
minute he hailed us and we went down to the 
water’s edge to meet him. I was glad to have 
him come that day, for I was feeling my loneli- 
ness and sorrow very keenly. Tom was a boy of 
69 


70 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

deep and tender sympathy, and unlike most boys 
he could tell how he felt, and put your own 
thoughts into simple, homespun language, just as 
you would have said it yourself if you had only 
thought of it first. 

“I have been covering corn till my 'back is nearly 
broken, so I begged off today, and father and 
mother sent me over with a message. They want 
both of you to come and make your home with us. 
Father says your work will pay for your board, 
and you can go to school half the year at Parson 
Finley’s academy. They both said I should take 
no refusal. They ask you to come not only be- 
cause they are sorry for you, but also because 
they want you. Mother said, 4 We have room for 
them in our cabin and more in our hearts.’ ” 

I can’t remember all Tom’s arguments but I 
know he was such a persuasive pleader that they 
could hardly have chosen a better messenger. I 
wanted to go, for I knew what a cheerful, loving 
home it was. And the promise of attending a 
good school was very alluring. My own heart was 
such a strong ally that if I had decided then I 
should have accepted this kind invitation. 

‘ 1 Thank you, Tom, and your father and mother. 
It is very kind in you all, but I am afraid we 


A Trip to Losantiville 71 

should be a burden on you. I should like it so 
much, for it is terribly lonely without father and 
mother. ’ ’ 

“You will not he any burden to us. You are 
both too smart workers for that. So just say you 
will come and we will bring Kenton’s big boat 
and move you right over . 9 9 

“I must think about it more, Tom. We are not 
always free to do what we like. We get fixed in 
our places and it seems as if we have to hold on. 
You know what I mean, although I can’t say it.” 

“Do you mean your father left you in such a 
way that it is your duty to stay here?” 

“That is just it, Tom. He engaged to be one 
of the company, and Massie gave him a deed for 
an inlot and an outlot. He was to work with the 
others, and to help defend the station, and I ought 
to take his place and do his work as far as I can. 
There are a good many things I can do, if I am 
only a boy, and I can shoot well enough to take 
part in the defense if we should be attacked. I 
think my father would want me to stay and do 
this, for it would be carrying on the work he be- 
gan, you see.” 

“I understand, Morris, how you feel and it is 
grand for you to think of it that way. But I 


72 


Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

think I should want to follow my inclinations for 
being comfortable. I could not bear the loneli- 
ness and sorrow, and I should want to be in a 
family. ’ 9 

“Then another thing, Tom. Mr. Massie wants 
me to stay. He says if I agree to do that I shall 
have the hundred acres he promised to give to 
father, m two years ; and that if anything happens 
to me in the meantime Susie shall have a deed 
for it.” 

“That is a big offer, and the land is worth 
something. ’ ’ 

“It is good land and is worth an effort to keep 
it. It will be hard to live here by ourselves in- 
stead of in your family, hut wouldn’t it be some- 
thing like, to try to accomplish all that?” 

“It will he splendid,” Tom replied. “At the 
same time, we want you at our home. Mother 
would teach Susie, and you could go to school.” 

“Well, I will think it all over before I decide. 
I must carry my clay up to the cabin. You help 
me chink my chimney. Two can do it better than 
one.” 

“You ought to have stone chimneys like ours. 
These cat and clay chimneys are not very safe in 


A Trip to Losantiville 73 

a station. One of them will take fire some night 
and bum you all out.” 

‘ ‘ Mr. Massie makes us look after them and keep 
them well daubed. The clay burns on and gets 
as hard as stone.” 

The fireplace in our cabin was lined with stone. 
Above that the chimney was made of small green 
logs laid up like the cabin walls. The inside was 
thickly daubed with clay, which was already hard, 
but the cracks needed to be filled up. Tom helped 
me with ready and skilful hands and by the middle 
of the morning our work was finished. Then we 
got my line, borrowed one of a neighbor and went 
out to catch a mess of fish for dinner. The fish 
did not bite very freely so late in the morning, 
but we caught two dozen perch. We soon tired 
of scaling the little fellows and dropped them 
into boiling water, when the skin peeled oft very 
easily. 

Susie gave us a nice dinner of fried fish, boiled 
greens and corn bread. The perch were so sweet 
and juicy that we wished we had caught more of 
them. After dinner we had a talk with Mr. Mas- 
sie and he advised me to stay at the station. He 
also promised that he would take me out on some 
of his surveys when I was older. So I concluded 


74 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

that, although the life at the station would be hard 
and dangerous, I would remain there and do my 
part to add to its security and prosperity. 

When Tom started home early in the afternoon 
it was not easy to part from him, for he was like 
a brother to me. There was less than a year’s 
difference in our ages, so we could understand 
and feel for one another. 

“Tell your father and mother we would like to 
live with them, but our duty keeps us here.” 

Tom seemed really downcast at going home 
without us, and it was some time before I saw him 
again. 

We needed some supplies at the station and Mr. 
Massie had intended to send one of the company 
to Lexington, but just at this time a family of 
emigrants remained over at Limestone for a day to 
repair their leaking flat-boat. While they were 
stopping up the cracks Mr. Massie went over to see 
them and concluded to ask them to take his mes- 
senger down to Losantiville. He knew the return 
could be made by a keel boat which Colonel El- 
liott, a government contractor, was going to send 
up the river to Pittsburg. 

Mr. Massie did not want to spare a man for the 
trip, which might take two or three weeks. He 


A Trip to Losantiville 75 

said I was capable of attending to all tbe business 
and asked me to go down on tbe flat-boat and 
come back on the keel boat. Mrs. Ellison prom- 
ised to take care of Susie while I was gone. When 
I agreed to undertake the errand, all the settlers 
collected their skins and furs for trading and 
made out lists of what they wanted in exchange. 
Mr. Massie wrote some letters about his business, 
and others to introduce me to various people. He 
also gave me an order on Bar tie and Strong, who 
kept a general store at Cincinnati. The journey 
was uneventful, and in a day and a half I reached 
the village. 

At this time Cincinnati was usually called 
Losantiville, and I think, little Morris, you will 
be interested in knowing why. Three men, Col- 
onel Robert Patterson, Mathias Denman and John 
Filson, bought seven hundred and forty acres of 
land of Judge John Cleves Symmes, for fifteen 
cents an acre. Filson was a surveyor and school 
teacher and he laid out the town, making up the 
fanciful name L-os-anti-ville in this way: Ville, 
the French for town; anti, Greek, opposite; os, 
Latin, mouth; L, the Licking river: the town op- 
posite the mouth of the Licking. 

Soon after laying it out and before paying for 


76 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

his share, Filson was murdered by the Indians. 
Denman sold the property to Israel Ludlow, who 
made a new plat and called the town Cincinnati. 

Judge Symmes had bought a large tract of land 
between the Miamis, and planned to build a city 
at the mouth of the Big Miami. He first estab- 
lished a station at North Bend, and induced the 
Secretary of War to send Ensign Luce with 
seventeen soldiers there to build a fort. A cer- 
tain married woman at North Bend was so at- 
tractive to the Ensign that her husband became 
very jealous and moved up to Cincinnati. Then 
the Ensign decided that the most suitable site for 
the military post was Cincinnati, and moved his 
company up there and built a blockhouse. This 
was the trivial reason why Cincinnati became the 
first large village on the river, and took the start 
that ultimately made it instead of North Bend 
the Queen City of the West. But the Kentuck- 
ians, in derision, still called it Losantiville. 

When I had presented my letters and found a 
place to stay for a few days, I heard the people 
talking about an Indian spy who had come down 
the hill north of Fort Washington, and had fooled 
Mr. Woodward into believing the story that he 
had been a prisoner among the Indians and had 


77 


A Trip to Losantiville 

escaped from them. He had all the opportunity 
he could ask to make discoveries, and now the 
Indians would know how weak they were and 
how to take them unawares. 

“ Where is he now?” I asked. 

“Nobody knows. Mr. Campbell took him down 
to Symmes fort, hut we don’t know whether he is 
still there. Most likely he has escaped into the 
woods, and has already reported to the Indians, 
and any day or hour they may fall on the settle- 
ment and burn us all alive. ’ ’ 

I thought this man, whose name was Doolittle, 
was a croaker, and to show my disbelief in his 
story, I made a guess. 

“Perhaps it was Israel Donalson. The Indians 
got him a month ago when I was with him. They 
didn’t catch me.” 

“That is who he is, Morris,” said Will Strong, 
a hoy of my age whom I had seen in his father’s 
store. “I knew him.” 

“He fooled you too, Will. He’s a decoy.” 

“I guess I know Israel Donalson. He worked 
in our store, casting up accounts. How could 
he run off to the Indians with his feet so swelled 
up he could hardly stand, and there was not a 
shoe in the village big enough to fit him. I’d like 


78 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

to have yon explain that, Sam Doolittle. Mr, 
Woodward believed him even when General Har- 
mar was in donbt. Why don’t yon believe me 
when I say I know him.” 

“Of course, when yon know a man, yon know 
him, and that’s all there is to it,” I said. “I 
would like to see him and tell him to go hack with 
me.” 

* ‘ There will he no time for that, for there ’s Mr. 
Elliott’s boat coming up the river this very min- 
ute.” 


CHAPTER VII 

DONALSOSr's RETURN 

It took some time after we sighted the boat for 
the men to row it to the rude landing place near 
the foot of Sycamore Street. My business had 
been finished, and all my goods were ready to be 
carried on board, a task for which there would 
be plenty of time, as the boat would be tied up 
several hours. As it drew near, a crowd of men 
went down to the water, some women and girls 
with them. Any diversion to break the monotony 
of their life was eagerly seized and the most pos- 
sible interest extracted from it. But when the 
boat was still a hundred feet from the landing 
place in Yeatman’s cove I ran along the bank 
shouting : 

“ Israel, Israel. I’m glad you escaped. Are 
you going home? I’m going on this boat.” 

‘ ‘ Morris Patterson ! What are you doing here ?, 
Yes, I’m on the way to our station.” 

“Did you know the Indians caught me, and 
they killed father?” 


79 


8o Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

“Yon don’t tell me, Morris ! Bnt yon got away, 
and that’s good. How is yonr mother?” 

“Mother was sick and she conld not live when 
she knew father was dead. I lost her a few days 
after I got home.” 

“Worse and worse. Yon shall tell me all about 
it when I get ashore. I have some business to do 
for Mr. Campbell.” 

If the men who thronged the river bank had 
any lingering doubts about Donalson’s identity, 
these were quickly dispelled by my instantaneous 
recognition. Mr. Massie’s letter secured me a 
passage and transportation for my goods, which 
I immediately carried on board, and in three 
hours we started up the river. Mr. Elliott and 
Israel made me tell my story and the crew lis- 
tened as they pulled on their oars. Afterwards 
those kind-hearted rivermen came to me one at a 
time, and offered me a dollar or a cut quarter, but 
I could not take their hard-earned money and 
told them I would get along, and more than earn 
my own and my little sister’s living, by my work 
at the station. 

Israel then told me the whole story of his cap- 
tivity and I will repeat for you in his own words, 


Donalson’s Return 81 

as well as I can recollect them, the parts you will 
he most interested in hearing. 

“I surrendered, ’ ’ he said, “when I fell into the 
creek, for three Indians were just behind me and 
covered me with their guns. They seemed to 
think they had got a prize, for at once they started 
for their village in the north without waiting to 
look for anything else. I never valued myself 
very highly, knowing so many men better than I 
am, hut when I saw their eagerness about me I 
raised the price of myself, and concluded they did 
not own enough in their village to keep me in 
slavery. 

“We made a long march that day and at night 
camped on Eagle Creek. The next day was rainy 
and one of the Indians took my hat and put it on 
his own dirty head, which would have been ben- 
efited by being washed by the rain. 

“The Indian who had first laid his hand on me 
was very friendly, and I suppose their customs al- 
lowed him to claim me as his captive. Soon I let 
him know by signs that I wanted my hat. He put 
it back on my head, but at the first dash of rain 
the Indian took it again. I appealed to my friend 
a second time, but he shook his head and then 
opened his pack and took out a greasy wool cap. 


82 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

“The rains had flooded the land and all the 
streams were high. The Indians knew where the 
fords were and walked in boldly where it looked 
very dangerous to me. My timidity made them 
great sport, and they went out of their way, I 
think, to see me get scared at crossing the deep 
creeks ; but my friend locked his arm in mine and 
helped me through when the water came up to my 
neck. 

“Sunday they marched into a thicket of game 
and killed two bears and a deer. After they had 
gorged themselves for an hour they jerked the 
meat over the fire. While the strips strung on 
wands were cooking and drying, they peeled a 
round of bark as big as a barrel from a tree, and 
sewed end pieces into it, making a neat, strong 
box. I was quite interested in this job of manu- 
facture, new to me at the time, until, after it was 
filled with meat, they put it on my back; then I 
wished they had never invented it. However, 
there was no help for it and I carried it until it 
grew heavier and heavier, and when I could 
stand up under it no longer I threw it off. 

“This raised a great laugh, while they called me 
papoose and squaw and started off again on 
their stupid horse laugh. They rubbed some 


Donalson’s Return 


83 

bear’s fat on my back and put tbe box up again. 
I carried it a good bit and threw it off once more. 
My friend took it up and put it on his own head 
and carried it the rest of the day. After they had 
supper and breakfast it was not near so heavy. 
They thought they would humble me. One of them 
made a little fence of twigs and planted inside a 
grain of corn that he fished out of his pouch. He 
pointed to me and they all called me squaw and 
raised their horse laugh again. I understood 
well enough what they meant, but I thought they 
would starve before they ate any corn that I had 
to plant, for the resolution to escape was more 
firmly fixed every day and I watched every 
chance. You were very fortunate, Morris, to be 
followed by that kind old fanatic who rescued 
you, and you can never thank him enough for that 
act. 

“To go on with my story, when we came near 
Old Chillicothe on the Little Miami there was a 
large camp of Indians well armed and all of them 
had horses. I was well received and did not have 
to run the gantlet, which I had all along dreaded. 
Perhaps they reserved that distinguished recep- 
tion for me when we reached their own village. 

“There was a white man by the name of Ward 


84 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

in camp, who asked me about the Wards near 
Kenton’s station. I tried to persuade him to go 
hack to his people and to take me with him, hut he 
had become so much of an Indian as to like their 
ways the best.” 

“Was he Jack Ward who was captured thirty 
years ago when he was a baby?” 

“Ay, that’s the man and I care little for him. 
I was plotting to escape now, for my friend had 
gone off with a hand on the warpath and I had no 
security of kind treatment. The Indians had 
heard Kenton had killed some of their company 
and I had good reason to think I should he tor- 
tured. But there was no time for it now, for they 
heard Kenton was marching north and they were 
planning to ambush him. ’ ’ 

“He did not have a fight, for he found their 
villages deserted,” I explained. 

l ‘It was well he took a roundabout way home 
and missed that hand, for they were too many for 
him. In the afternoon we left that camp and I 
knew nothing of what happened. 

“I determined to escape that night. As usual 
they tied me, just as you were tied, with the ends 
of the rope under the men on each side of me. 
This tug was a rope of bark twisted up. When 


Donalson’s Return 


85 

they were all asleep I managed to draw my body 
in smaller and to pull the rope and pick it to 
pieces with my fingers. It was a tedious and pain- 
ful job, for the bark was very tough and I did not 
get loose until just before dawn. 

“Oh how glad I was when I was free at last, but 
I didn’t do any shouting about it. I stepped out 
with the utmost care, took up my moccasins and 
softly slipped away into the bushes. Then I 
stopped to put on the moccasins, but had only half 
finished when I heard a yell in camp. I never ran 
so fast in my life. The Indians did not come my 
way and I never saw them again.” 

“ What did you have to eat?” I asked. 

“Nothing, during the whole tramp of nearly 
one hundred miles, except two turkey eggs which 
I happened to find in a bunch of dead limbs on the 
ground. One of them had a double yolk. I came 
down the Little Miami until I struck the traces of 
General Harmar’s army on their expedition last 
spring. My old moccasins soon wore out, and my 
feet were cut and bruised, full of thorns, and so 
swollen that I could hardly bear my weight on 
them. 

“Two whole days I walked, and when night 
came I thought I could never go a mile farther, 


86 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

yet I struggled on, faint from hunger and sick 
with the pain at every step I took. I fell down by 
a tree and knew nothing for hours. When I came 
to myself I took a little courage, for somehow I 
had the conviction that I would get into Cincin- 
nati that day. With a great effort I rose and 
stumbled along; when almost gone I would drag 
myself on again, take a rest and then try it once 
more, so I got over a good piece of the trace. At 
last I fell and lost consciousness again. 

‘ 4 After awhile I found myself awake and the 
same conviction as before came over me. I 
started once more and tried to forget the weak- 
ness and pain. Pretty soon the hills looked like 
the river hills and that gave me some heart to 
tramp along. Hours passed, but I progressed 
slowly. Finally I heard the clanking of a cow-bell 
and I can’t begin to tell you how sweet that hoarse 
tinkling sounded in my ears. 

4 4 As I came to the steep brow of the hill from 
which I could see the broad river a mile away, I 
heard the ringing of an ax and knew my deliver- 
ance was near, but that last mile cost me agony 
every time I put my foot to the ground. When I 
came to the outlots there was that good man, 
William Woodward, who had compassion on me, 


Donalson’s Return 


87 

believed my story against all the clamor of the 
silly frightened people and took me to his home. ’ ’ 
“I can’t understand why they doubted your 
story.” 

“Why, Morris, you wouldn’t have known me 
then, for the Indians had dressed me up like one 
of themselves. My leggings were soiled with rain 
and mud, and in place of my good shirt I wore an 
old greasy blanket. They had separated my scalp 
lock from the rest of my hair, tied a bunch of 
turkey feathers in it, and wrapped a piece of tin 
around it so tight that I could not undo it. They 
had even put a tin jewel in my nose. When I 
spoke Mr. Woodward looked to see if I was armed 
and then exclaimed : 

“In the name of God, who are you!” 

“You have heard the rest of my story in Cin- 
cinnati. It makes me mad even yet to think and 
talk about those pig-headed people, who persisted 
in calling me a spy and a decoy, after they had 
time to see the forlorn state I was in and that I 
was almost dead. You know all that and so I’ll 
not tell it over again but try to forget it. ’ ’ 

As the boat slowly advanced up the stream we 
had time to compare our experiences and talk over 
our plans. 


88 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

“Your father’s and mother’s deaths make a 
great change in your life. What will you do?” 
Israel asked me. 

“I intend to stay at the station and take my 
father’s place. When I am old enough I shall he 
a surveyor.” 

“That is the very thing for you to do. You 
need not fret yourself about learning the business 
for I will teach you. Surveying pays well, and 
there will always he plenty of work in that line. 
First off you must learn arithmetic. Here we are 
with three idle days on this boat, so you might 
begin now and I will drill you on it. ’ ’ 

I took out some paper I had bought of Mr. 
Strong, Israel set me some tasks in multiplying 
and dividing, and my time was well improved un- 
til we reached the station. 

Although Mr. Donalson was not a man of un- 
usual ability he was afterwards associated with 
great leaders in founding and governing our state. 
I think the traits of character which led to his be- 
ing so honored began to show themselves in his 
youth, and in his conduct towards a poor hoy like 
me. He was very faithful and industrious, and 
he encouraged those virtues in others. He took 
great pains to help me to improve myself and to 


Donalson’s Return 


89 

fit myself for a useful and prosperous life. He 
sought the best for himself and for his neighbors, 
and, as we now say, he kept posted on what was 
going on in the world. Such men as that acquire 
a strong influence in the community and in the 
state. 

I studied under him all through that summer, 
reciting in the evenings, and working all day by 
the side of the men in the cornfield on the island, 
or in the clearings on our lots, or following the 
red deer through the forest when it was my turn 
to get meat. 

Tom Anderson came over very often and would 
help me with my work until my task was more 
than done; then, we would take a few hours for 
hunting and fishing. We were both drawn to the 
woods and the river by a strong love of nature in 
her wildest forms. The beauty of the hills and 
valleys, the dashing of the brooks over their 
stony beds, the magnificence of the great trees in 
the bottom lands, and the changing colors of the 
sunrise and sunset on the river made pleasant and 
deep impressions on our minds. 

Then, too, the excitement of hunting and fishing 
not only afforded a diversion to the monotony of 
our quiet life at the station, but also gave us 


90 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

something new to talk about. Tom had a dog he 
called Mose, because he found him in the bul- 
rushes where some Indians had lost him. Mose 
was one of the best hunters I ever knew, and he 
found many a deer and bear for us. Tom often 
brought Mose with him and he was the friend of 
every man, woman and child in our station. 

One day late in June we found the fresh tracks 
of a doe and a fawn. The mother had cunningly 
hidden her young, and Mose could not find it, for 
fawns leave no scent. We concealed ourselves, 
and as Tom, who was a capital mimic, began to 
bleat, the doe came leaping to the spot where she 
had left her young one in the long grass. It 
seemed a pity to kill the mother at that season, 
especially when she had come with almost human 
feelings at the cry of her offspring, but as the sta- 
tion was out of meat it was a necessity. The fawn, 
standing by the dam, was easily caught and I 
carried it home to Susie. 

She fed it with milk and in three days it was so 
tame it followed her all over the station. It was 
as gentle as a kitten and would stand by my side 
rubbing its head on my arm, or even try to get in 
my lap when I sat on my three-legged stool. It 
grew to be the pet of everyone in the station, and 


Donalson’s Return 


9i 


to watch its graceful motions as it ran after the 
hoys and girls in their play was a new pleasure 
in our lives. Susie, who missed mother so much, 
and who was so often alone in the daytime when I 
was away at my work, found a good deal of com- 
fort in having such a beautiful and gentle pet to 
love. 


CHAPTER VIII 


A LONG LOOK AHEAD 

It was a beautiful day in September, when all 
our men, except the guards at the station, were 
working in the cornfield on the lower island. 
While most of them were cutting and tying up, 
Israel Donalson and I were husking, for some of 
the corn was dry enough to be made into corn- 
meal, which we much needed. 

We were busy and happy, seated on the dry 
fodder and enjoying the warmth and beauty of 
the day. The rustling of the blades made a pleas- 
ant sound, and the heat of the sun was tempered 
by a cool breeze from the water; over our head 
was the deep blue September sky; the wide river 
with its high enclosing hills covered to their sum- 
mit with heavy forests made a fine prospect, and 
in the foreground were the bright yellow shocks 
of fodder and piles of golden corn; in swampy 
spots were bunches of blue asters and here and 
there the vivid scarlet of a sumach bush. Now 


92 


A Long Look Ahead 93 

and then I lifted my eyes from my work to gaze 
on a scene worthy of a painter ’s brush. 

Mr. Massie came near ns as he was crossing the 
island, having stopped to sharpen his large knife, 

“What are yon two talking about !” he asked, 
and we laughed at ourselves. 

“No doubt it sounds strange,” Israel answered. 
“While our hands are busy our minds are free, 
and Morris wanted me to give him sums in arith- 
metic to work out in his head. That makes him 
quick at figures and trains his memory too. He 
is a regular Ben Franklin in his thirst for knowl- 
edge. The trouble is he has learned about all I 
can teach him and he ought to go to some better 
school.” 

“If he is so bent on learning it’s a pity he can- 
not keep on. Haven’t you more knowledge stored 
away under your hat which you can impart to 
him?” 

“He says I sucked all the juice out of his knowl- 
edge, and left only the seeds and peel, but that 
isn’t true. He knows ever so much that he has 
not taught me.” 

“That may be, but it’s not the teaching which 
you need just now. In fact, Massie, I have carried 


94 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

him as far along as I can and he ought to take a 
term with some more competent instructor. ’ * 

“I will think about it, Morris, and see if we 
cannot do something for you this fall.” 

These words of Massie’s gave me considerable 
satisfaction, for when he said, 1 1 1 will think about 
it,” something was almost certain to come out of 
his thinking. Under Mr. Donalson’s teaching and 
conversation that summer my mind had awakened 
to a new understanding and appreciation of the 
value of knowledge. Here was this wonderful 
new world in which we lived, and men were just 
beginning to learn its history and riches. There 
were the great nations in the old world, with their 
customs and governments, their wars and history. 
At this time began my study of such subjects, 
and my interest in learning more about them has 
never flagged. 

Mr. Massie did not forget his promise, but 
talked the matter over with me that evening. 
This showed the true spirit of the man, always 
ready to help others, especially if they wanted to 
better themselves. Nor did he let it seem as if 
he was conferring a benefit. 

“You will be a more useful member of the sta- 
tion if you study this fall, and you can be of much 


A Long Look Ahead 95 

greater service to me in my surveys. I will tell 
you something of my plans. 

“This Virginia Military District stretches 
along the river more than one hundred miles from 
the Scioto river to the Little Miami, and over one 
hundred and twenty-five miles north of us. It is 
four or five times as large as Judge Symmes’ pur- 
chase. There will he more than four million acres 
of land, much of it exceedingly rich and fertile. 
When Virginia surrendered to the United States 
her claims to the Northwest territory, this is the 
ample domain she reserved for the veterans of the 
Revolution to whom she had promised land. It is 
now open for locating the lands on those military 
warrants. 

“This district lies midway between the Ohio 
company with their settlement at Marietta and 
the Symmes Purchase with its center at Cincin- 
nati. You know something about the great ordi- 
nance of 1787, by which all this territory north- 
west of the Ohio river was organized for govern- 
ment and opened up to settlement. The part of 
the territory we live in, that is, east of a line drawn 
north from the mouth of the Big Miami, is called 
the Eastern division, and is to he one of the 


96 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

states— in fact it can be a state as soon as it con- 
tains sixty thousand people. It will not be ten 
years before this comes to pass, for look at Ken- 
tucky and think how rapidly it has grown. There 
are one hundred thousand people in Kentucky 
now. ’ y 

“Where will the capital of the new state be? 
Answer that question, Donalson.” 

“It should be as near the center as possible, on 
convenient lines of travel . 1 ’ 

“That will bring it within the limits of the 
Virginia Reservation. But there is another rea- 
son why it may be located there. Marietta and 
Cincinnati will each want to be first, and their 
rivalry will prevent either one of them from being 
the capital. If we have much the largest popula- 
tion in this section, we can easily control the loca- 
tion of the capital. 

“Now, to come to my part of this grand work 
before us. I expect to do a large part of the locat- 
ing of the lands, and surveying them for the sol- 
diers who hold the warrants. I have established 
this station as a base of operations and supplies, 
and from this place I shall lead strong parties to 
survey the lands at the time of year when the In- 


A Long Look Ahead 97 

dians are not in the woods, but if we are attacked 
we will fight them . ’ 1 

“Do you think this station will become the capi- 
tal f” I asked. 

“Hardly, although I should be glad if it could 
be, but I think it will be on the Scioto much far- 
ther north. It is my ambition to make a good 
town of our station, still, I have the higher ambi- 
tion to lay out the capital of our future state. It 
will be on a river, of course, and for a hundred 
miles from its mouth the Scioto is a navigable 
river, so I feel sure that the capital will be in that 
central valley of the future state.” 

“That is a shrewd forcast of future events and 
if the Indians do not object too seriously you may 
see it carried out. A few years ago Kentucky was 
the dark and bloody ground of the West. It had 
no military protection, but has grown in the face 
of all the terrible ravages of the Indians. If the 
Government will pacify the Indians we shall see 
a rush of boats down the Ohio and this country 
will be rapidly settled.” 

“Yes, Donalson, and I have assurances from 
the leading men in Congress and in the Cabinet 
of President Washington that we shall be pro- 
tected.” 


98 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

This talk of Mr. Massie’s fired my ambition. 
Would the time come soon when we should see the 
forests cleared away, and cities and villages tak- 
ing their places, with thriving farms and bustling 
factories, where wagons and plows, furniture, 
cloth and many other articles would be made? 
Then I too, Morris Patterson, wanted to have a 
share in such enterprises. 

But Mr. Massie had more to say that directly 
concerned me. 

“Morris, I want you to think about what it 
means to have a large population here, and to be 
organized into a state. Many new counties will be 
formed, with sheriffs and judges and members of 
the legislature to be elected. In the state govern- 
ment there will be other positions of trust and in- 
fluence, such as governors, congressmen, senators 
and supreme judges. Educated men will be 
needed for such places. Get your education, 
Morris, keep sober and industrious and make all 
the money you can. Then you will be one of the 
men fitted for public service, and your fellow- 
citizens will choose you for it. ’ ’ 

This last suggestion did not make a very strong 
appeal to me, because, brought up in the back 


A Long Look Ahead 99 

woods, I did not know much about such things. 
At this point, Mr. Donalson said : 

1 ‘ If Virginia now owns so large a block of land 
in the heart of this territory, and gives it away to 
her old soldiers, she will have a large part in mak- 
ing the new state. The Marietta people think 
they are making a state out here, and that it will 
be a copy of one of the New England states.” 

“Yes, there will be many Virginians here and 
many Scotch-Irish from Pennsylvania, and from 
Ireland also. There will be Germans, and, in fact, 
people from many sections who want land. ' But 
Virginia, as you say, will probably have a strong 
influence. I would not object to that, as I am a 
Virginian, and like her ideas and ways. 

“Now, Morris, if you want to study this fall, I 
think we can spare you, and you might go to Cin- 
cinnati, where they are to open a good school, and 
stay until the middle of the winter. Then we shall 
need you either as a chain carrier in my company 
of surveyors, or to help defend the station while 
part of us are away. I think I can find a place for 
you in Cincinnati.” 

“I must take Susie with me. I could not be 
separated from her for so long a time . 1 7 

“I supposed you would want her to go. Do you 

Lcf 0. 


IOO 


Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

want me to arrange for yon to spend three months 
down there ! ” 

I very thankfully accepted this kind offer and 
a few minutes later left the blockhouse and re- 
turned to our cabin to tell Susie about it, finding 
her as pleased as I at the prospect of going to 
school. Two weeks after that Mr. Massie re- 
ceived an answer to a letter he had written to Mr. 
Strong, with the good news that Mr. and Mrs. 
Gardner would be glad to have us spend three 
months with them, paying for our board by our 
work. 

The river had been very low for a month, but 
now rains in the mountains of Pennsylvania and 
Virginia gave a good depth of water, and boats 
bringing the supplies for General St. Clair’s army 
began to come down. On an emigrant’s flat-boat 
that came in company with them, Mr. Massie se- 
cured a passage for us. At the last, Susie would 
not leave her pet fawn behind, although it had 
grown quite large. I could not wonder at her fond- 
ness, for the animal was as much of a cosset as it 
had been in the summer. 

On the second day, towards evening, we had 
passed Columbia, and were looking ahead to catch 
sight of the flag on Fort Washington, as we 


A Long Look Ahead ioi 

listened for the sunset gnn. I saw someone mov- 
ing on the right hand shore ahead of us and 
pointed him out to the owner of the boat. Then I 
jumped up and watched him closely. 

6 ‘ It’s a boy, and he is running back as if he was 
afraid of Indians. Oh, you can see now there’s a 
wolf after him,— two of them, coming down the 
hill. Don’t you see them! They will tear him to 
pieces. I must help him.” 

There was a skiff tied to a corner of the flat 
boat, and I threw the oars into it, took my gun, and 
jumped in without asking Mr. Adams’ consent. 
The steersman cast off the rope and I pushed out, 
shouting to the boy to fight the wolves or climb a 
tree. 

It took me a few minutes to reach the shore and 
run up the bank, but when I came up there was 
the boy with his back to a tree, bravely fighting 
for his life against the hungry beasts. 

I aimed at the largest one and brought him 
down with a bullet through his heart. Then we 
both clubbed the other so fiercely that he ran off a 
hundred feet and sat looking at us with hungry 
eyes, howling with rage, but not daring to return. 

The boy was younger than I by two years, but a 
real plucky fellow. 


102 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

“I’d like to kill that other one. He hit and tore 
my arm. Load up your gun and let me shoot 
him. ,, 

“I did not stop to get my powder horn. We 
ought to get away before he calls any more wolves 
down the hill.” 

“We will take the one you shot. The skin is 
worth three or four dollars.” 

We dragged the body down to the water and 
after some hard lifting got it into the skiff and 
pushed off. The boy looked me all over and then 
said: 

“Who are you and where did you come from!” 

When I told him he responded : 

“ I’ve heard of you. I ’m George McNeil, Dave ’s 
brother.” 

“I saw Dave last spring. Who is that riding 
along the shore!” 

“That’s my cousin, Will Brewster, looking for 
me. Hello, Will! I’m here in this boat with 
Morris Patterson, and you ought to see the big 
wolf we’ve killed.” 

“What will you he doing next, George! How 
could you kill a wolf without a gun!” 

‘ ‘ Morris shot him hut I knocked him over twice 
with a club.” 


103 


A Long Look Ahead 

“As soon as you get to the landing you come 
right home, for your mother is dreadfully worried 
about you.” 

It was nearly dark when we caught up with the 
flat-boat as it was pulling into the landing at the 
village, and soon after, Susie and I were kindly re- 
ceived by our new friends, the Gardners. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE SCHOOL BY THE FORT 

I was at the woodpile the next morning helping 
Mr. Gardner, when George McNeil came around 
with several other boys. They wanted me to go 
down to see the soldiers and the school house 
which the men were raising near the fort. 

“I can’t go this morning, George, for I must 
work for my board, and Mr. Gardner needs me. 
I have to support myself and Susie by my work. 

“Dan, you ought to be splitting wood,” said 
Mr. Gardner. ‘ 4 There ’s your mother with the ax 
in her hand looking this way. Morris can go after 
awhile, George.” 

The village at Cincinnati was not surrounded 
by a stockade, but the houses were built along 
Pront Street on the top of the bank facing the 
river. Some of the cabins were farther away on 
Main Street and the fort was two squares back on 
higher ground. A fine square had been set apart 
for the school and other public buildings, on the 
high second bank, a quarter of a mile from the 
104 


The School by the Fort 105 

river. Here the Presbyterian church had been 
bnilt that spring, but in these dangerous times 
the people were afraid to have the school so far 
away, so they were raising a school house near the 
fort, where the children would be protected from 
any sudden attack by the Indians. 

The first term of school would begin October 
1 st, and last three months. The new schoolmas- 
ter had the promise of thirty scholars, at eight 
shillings, or one dollar, a month for each one. Mr. 
Gardner applied for a place for Susie and me, and 
a bargain was made that I should dress the wolf- 
skin and that we should have two months ’ school- 
ing for it. 

It did not take long to build and furnish a 
school house in those days, and at the beginning 
of the next week school opened. 

The writingmaster, as they called him, was one 
of those Scoth-Irish men, who for many years 
were almost the only teachers in the West. They 
were good teachers, but many of them were 
slovenly and intemperate in their habits. Boys 
and girls now would not only think them cruel, 
but would be astonished at some of their ways of 
conducting a school. 

Three years later there came one September 


io6 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

day the grand news of Wayne’s victory over the 
Indians at Fallen Timbers. The writing-master 
gave the children a holiday, and marched all the 
boys np to the tavern on Front street, where he 
treated each one to a glass of cherry bounce, and 
no one at that time thought it wrong. In some 
ways the world has grown wiser and better since 
then. 

Somehow it was my good luck to get to the head 
of the school before long, and as I was a stranger 
some of the boys showed a jealous spirit and made 
trouble. As they came to know me, and I took my 
share in all their games and fun, this antagonism 
wore off. 

I sat beside George McNeil on the long bench, 
which reached from the front of the room to the 
rear. It was made of puncheon, that is, half of a 
log with the split side dressed, and several legs 
driven into auger holes. Before us was a sloping 
shelf, a wide hewn plank dressed down as smooth 
as could be done with an ax, resting on pins 
driven into the log wall. High above our heads 
so that we would not waste time looking out, was 
a long opening to let in light. In cold weather 
this was covered with greased paper instead of 


The School by the Fort 107 

glass. The girls sat on the opposite side of the 
school room at a similar desk. 

At my right hand was Dan Hodgen, a hoy who 
wonld not study and who was jealous of me be- 
cause I had taken the lead in our games. There 
was little time for play, as school hours were long 
and everyone had work to do morning and even- 
ing. We played prisoner’s base, bull-pen, town 
ball, as you do, and shinny, which I think was an 
Indian game. Sometimes on Saturday we made 
rafts by tying small logs with grape vines. We 
used to climb to the top of saplings and bend them 
down with our weight ; then the girls would catch 
on and spring up and down, screaming and laugh- 
ing every minute and pretending they were going 
to fall. Indian warfare was, of course, our great 
game, and we never tired of it. 

In those days teachers and parents thought it of 
the greatest importance that boys and girls should 
write a round, even and beautiful hand. If you 
take up the letters written fifty years ago in the 
early part of the century, you can have no trouble 
in deciphering them, for they are read as easily 
as print and are as beautiful as copperplate. 

I had a new copybook, made of unruled fools- 
cap paper, which Sarah McNeil had stitched to- 


108 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

gether for me. After I had borrowed the master's 
ruler I ruled the page with my lead plummet, 
made in the shape of a tomahawk ; then the master 
set me a copy, one of Poor Richard's proverbs— 

“If you would have your business done, go; if 
not, send." 

I wrote it off carefully and looked at it with 
some satisfaction; then I dipped my quill in the 
ink horn and began a second line but the pen 
scratched. I turned and held it up to the master 
as he walked up and down the room behind us 
with his taws under his arm, his eye ranging over 
the school, and his voice directing a class, wres- 
tling with the easy words in Webster's spelling 
book. He took out his pen-knife and began to cut 
a new point on my quill. 

“Spell ‘baker,' Ethan," he said to a little boy. 
“Dan, let me see that sum. You have forgotten 
the rule. Read it aloud," he added, handing him 
Pike's Arithmetic. “Don’t you see you have 
added your shillings to your pounds. Do that 
over again and put your pounds in the right col- 
umn, or I will give you some of another kind on 
your back." 

My pen was finished and ran smoothly, and I 
was putting an extra flourish on my capital when 


109 


The School by the Fort 

my elbow got a hard shove that made a scrawl on 
the page, while the delicate nib of the pen was 
spoiled by catching on the shelf. 

“See what you’ve done, Dan Hodgen. I’ll scalp 
yon for that,” I muttered, giving him a dig in the 
ribs as advance payment of the score. 

The master’s back was turned but his ears 
caught the sound of our scrimmage, and looking 
at the pen and paper he took it all in. He gave me 
a cut for talking, then Dan got three savage blows 
and was made to stand near the master’s desk, 
holding a heavy stone at arm’s length all the time 
the pen was being mended once more. When at 
last he was released Dan rubbed his aching arm, 
then the blue stripes on his bare legs, and instead 
of studying meditated some scheme of revenge on 
me. 

The next morning George and I were digging 
fish-bait by the little brook, the outlet of a narrow 
strip of swampy land that covered the space be- 
tween Second and Third streets. Susie and a 
smaller girl passed by to the crossing; then there 
were screams and a splash, and both girls were in 
the water. Susie was mad and the little girl 
crying. 

“Never mind, sister, the water isn’t deep.” 


IIO 


Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

“But it’s cold and wet and the mnd is nasty.’ ’ 

“Yon mnst take care next time not to slip.” 

“We never slipped, Morris. The plank 
turned. ’ ’ 

“It’s always been solid. Somebody has med- 
dled with it,” I said, lifting the puncheon’s end 
from its bed, and finding under it a flat stone with 
a round one on top for a pivot. 

“That’s some of Dan’s mean work. I saw him 
stop here,” George said as we replaced the pun- 
cheon. Then I caught Dan and pushed him down 
to the creek, rolling him over in the mire in spite 
of all his struggles, for I thought he ought to he 
punished for his meanness to the little girls. Like 
all cowardly bullies Dan picked out those weaker 
than himself for his tricks because it was safer to 
annoy them, and a few days later I had to stop 
some of his persecutions. 

Ethan Putnam was a boy who had lately come 
from Massachusetts. His parents had not married 
early and he was their only child. His mother 
dressed him very nicely in a quaint style that had 
been the fashion when she herself was a girl. As 
most of the hoys wore buckskin or homespun linen, 
or linsey, Ethan’s fine clothes made him a marked 
boy. His brown cloth suit was ornamented with 


Ill 


The School by the Fort 

brass buttons; the waist coat was cutaway and 
reached to his knees. He wore knee breeches, 
black stockings and shoes with large buckles. He 
had no wig but his long hair was tied in a queue. 

One morning when the fog was still hanging 
like smoke among the trees and the grass was drip- 
ping, George and I came up to the school where 
Ethan was crying in the center of a group of boys. 

“What are you boys doing to Ethan ?” George 
asked. 

“Dan is taking the Yankee out of him.” 

This process of initiation into Western life was 
varied. Today the boys were pounding out of 
Ethan a pronunciation that seemed harsh to them. 
I looked on to see what was being done, and prob- 
ably Dan thought he was safe. 

“Say 4 how/ ” Dan demanded. 

Ethan blubbered and hesitated until Dan’s fist 
threatened him, then answered “Haow.” 

“Where were you going this morning when I 
saw you? 

“I was driving our keow to parsture.” 

“Sam, get a split stick like you wore in school 
yesterday, and put it on his nose so he won’t talk 
through it.” 


1 12 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

But Ethan, breaking through the circle, ran to 
me for protection and I pitied him. 

‘ ‘See here, Dan Hodgen, don’t you touch Ethan 
again. You can take a boy of your own size to 
tease. ’ 9 

Dan darted after Ethan and I put out my foot 
and tripped the bully. 

1 1 What did you do that for V 9 he demanded, rub- 
bing his elbow. 

“I want you to let this little fellow alone. You 
ought to be ashamed of yourself.” 

“We didn’t hurt him. He ort to learn to talk 
right.” 

“Your old grandfather in Cornwall talks worse 
than that. Major McNeil says their talk would 
sound like Shawnee to us. Ethan will learn fast 
enough to speak correctly from hearing us talk.” 

“Oh la! Just hear Morris,” said one of the 
large girls who had come up in time to hear my 
egotistical speech, but none of the boys saw any- 
thing amusing in it. 

“I’ll pay you up for tripping me and meddling 
with my fun. See if I don’t.” 

I did not think anything of his threat, consider- 
ing it only as an idle boast, for Dan had found out 


The School by the Fort 113 

by this time that I was too strong and qnick for 
him to tackle. 

The third morning after this, Susie’s fawn was 
gone. George and I had hunted for it in vain and 
Susie was in great distress. As there was a light 
frost we began to look for foot tracks, and finding 
large marks thought an Indian had sneaked in dur- 
ing the night and stolen it. I showed it to Will 
Brewster, who had lived among the Indians. 

1 ‘ That ’s not an Indian ’s track. It looks like Dan 
Hodgen’s foot. Let’s follow it up west.” 

We picked up the trail easily, and it led us to the 
forest beyond the Big Lizard Mound. Here was a 
poor affair meant for a bear trap, which every boy 
knew was Dan’s, and inside was Susie’s fawn. 
We took the fawn home, and as the story went 
about among the boys and girls, Dan’s father got 
hold of it, and so Dan got a threshing. 

My angry feelings did not last long; and as I 
looked at Dan’s trap, I wanted to make a good one 
for him. I told him a bear would knock such a 
flimsy pen to smithereens with one blow of his 
big paw. The next Saturday I got some of the 
boys out there, and we helped Dan make a turkey 
trap out of it. 

We built it up square and solid and covered the 


1 14 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

top with brush. Under one side we dug a trench 
leading into it, which we baited with corn and left 
open. Once inside the silly birds would not poke 
their way out but try vainly to fly out the top. 
Here Dan caught three turkeys and he gave me one 
of them. After this we got along very smoothly, 
proving it is much the best way for boys not to 
keep up the quarrels that rise between them. 

Soon after, Dan asked me to look at a wagon he 
was making which did not run well. I borrowed 
a saw and an auger and cut wheels from a small 
poplar log, fitting them on strong axles. As we 
had no nails, we used straps and sinews to tie on 
the rough box Dan had made. Dan could not get 
done telling about his wagon. 

The next half holiday I was busy at the wood- 
pile, but at last I noticed how quiet the street was, 
and wondered where all the boys were. Having 
finished my task I went to find George, or Dan, for 
I had a mind to go up the Walnut Hills road hunt- 
ing, but no one knew where they or any of the 
boys were. At last I found Ethan, who said every- 
one had gone nutting back of the fort. 

There was a general feeling of security about 
Cincinnati since General St. Clair’s army had 
marched north to fight the Indians, and to build 


The School by the Fort 115 

a chain of forts in their country. They were now 
building Fort Jefferson and the Indians probably 
were watching to find out the General’s plans, and 
getting ready to give him battle. Still the people 
were vigilant and the parents would not have al- 
lowed the children to wander off into the woods 
if they had known it. So I took my rifle and hur- 
ried out over the hills to find them. 

Not far beyond Sixth Street I heard screams 
and saw some of the hoys tearing along towards 
the village with the girls not far behind them. 
Dan was at the head with his wagon, which even in 
his terror he had not forgotten. I ran toward 
them and they screamed “ Indians” as they saw 
me. Some looked hack and stumbled into bushes, 
and one bright girl about Susie’s age, not watch- 
ing her path, ran into a small tree and fell to the 
ground. 

As I stooped over her she raised herself and 
with a dazed look started on. Her right leg and 
shoulder had received the hardest shock, and this 
saved her from a bad accident. 

‘ ‘ Dan, come hack and take Euth in your wagon, ’ ’ 
I shouted. “I will stand here and guard you. 
There are no Indians in sight. ’ ’ 

The hoys moved off hauling Ruth, and I went 


ii 6 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

cautiously from tree to tree for I was not sure all 
the children had gone home. 

Under a beech tree I saw a single Indian stoop 
and pick up a blue calico sunbonnet. He examined 
it in and out, put it on his head, capered about like 
a child and then started for the hills. As we after- 
wards learned he was White Eyes, who had come 
down to discover how many soldiers were in the 
fort, and whether any more armies were on their 
way to join St. Clair. He had been in the top of a 
tree on the Hill, now called Mount Adams, looking 
down into the fort, and seeing the children come 
out thought he would give them a scare. A fine 
scare it was and none of them went nutting again 
that year. 

When the alarm came two of the boys had been 
in a beech tree beating down the sweet and tooth- 
some nuts which had tempted them so far into the 
forest. They crouched down as quiet as mice and 
after an hour dropped to the ground and raced 
home. For a long time the sight of a beech nut 
made them feel sick. Altogether it was a for- 
tunate escape and the boys learned a good lesson 
from it. 


CHAPTER X 


WITH MASSIE IN THE WOODS 

About the middle of the term our school was in- 
terrupted for two days by the most dreadful 
calamity that occurred in the early history of the 
West, the defeat of General St. Clair’s army. It 
is not my intention to describe it here, for I was 
too young to be in the army and so was not at the 
battle, but living in Cincinnati at the time, I saw 
and felt the sorrow and distress that followed. 

Of course our school was dismissed, for some 
of the children had lost fathers and brothers, all 
of us were nervous and depressed, and study was 
impossible. Mr. McNeil’s family were in terrible 
anxiety about their son, David, who was an officer, 
and I well remember how relieved we all felt when 
he came back unhurt. Yet Dave’s story of those 
that were lost and the massacre of the wounded, 
made us realize only too vividly the horror of that 
awful scene. 

After two days, school began again and it was 

ii 7 


1 1 8 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

well that work and study had to go on, for they 
diverted our minds in the prevailing gloom. 

About the middle of December, Mr. Massie came 
down to Cincinnati in a canoe, on his way to Louis- 
ville. He had a package of Virginia Military land 
warrants for several thousand acres of land, 
which his partners in the East had purchased for 
him, and some others he was commissioned to 
locate for the owners. He arrived with his com- 
panion in the afternoon, and Mr. Gardner asked 
Mr. Massie to stay with him. When Susie and I 
came from school he was sitting in front of the 
big open fire, and you may be sure we were glad to 
see him. 

Mr. Gardner’s cabin was of good size, having 
two rooms below and a half story above which was 
divided into two bedrooms. Instead of a ladder 
there was a rough stairway built of boat plank by 
the side of the fireplace in the kitchen or living 
room. 

That evening as we sat by the fireside, Mr. Mas- 
sie told us of his plans. Mr. Gardner was much 
interested and inquired why the lands were opened 
up in that region in such a different way from 
those about here in Judge Symmes’ purchase. 

“The first attempt to settle the Ohio lands,” ex- 


With Massie in the Woods 1 19 

plained Mr. Massie, “was made by the Ohio com- 
pany, an association of army officers. They pur- 
chased a vast tract, a million and a half acres on 
both sides of the Muskingum, and began the first 
settlement at Marietta, in April, 1788. Congress 
was very anxious to make the sale, and promised 
them protection. 

“Then Judge Symmes and his associates made 
this great purchase here of one million acres, and 
Columbia, Cincinnati and North Bend were settled 
in 1789 and 1790. Both these strong land com- 
panies had sufficient influence with the Government 
to secure military guards and forts that the In- 
dians dare not attack. My station is an individual 
enterprise, and necessarily all the settlements that 
are to be made will have the same character: I 
mean they will consist of a union of individuals 
who own land in one neighborhood. I do not think 
it would be worth while to ask for protection. If 
the Government will subdue the Indians by a 
strong army under a capable leader we can take 
care of ourselves.’ ’ 

“I hope this horrible defeat and massacre will 
open the eyes of the Government, Congress and 
the whole nation to our true situation,” was Mr. 
Gardner’s comment. “We must have a chain of 


120 


Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

forts to the lakes and take possession of Detroit 
and the whole Indian country. One regiment with 
only half its men available is not sufficient. There 
should he a regiment at Detroit and a strong fort 
at Little Turtle’s capital and a line of them one 
day’s march apart.” 

“That is a sensible plan and could easily be 
made effective,” Mr. Massie replied. “Such a 
disaster as has happened will surely create sym- 
pathy for us, and criticism of the Government. So 
I am sure Congress will be forced by public senti- 
ment to take strong measures for our relief. They 
must also see that it is to their interest to do so. 
ITow can they sell the Congress lands if the people 
are afraid of the Indians and cease emigrating to 
the West?” 

6 1 1 had not thought of that but it is well put. I 
wish you would tell that to some of the leaders in 
Philadelphia. ’ ’ 

“I believe they will take action and I am. basing 
my plans on that belief. The Indians will be quiet 
for some time. They are parading in the uniforms 
of our dead soldiers, exhibiting their strings of 
scalps, boasting of their butcheries, and feasting 
on the provisions they captured. They do not 


With Massie in the Woods 121 

know how to follow up a victory, and so for a 
while we are safe.” 

“If St. Clair ’s story is true, there were not 
enough provisions in his camp to feed a horde of 
Indians three days.” 

“That’s so; hut you may be sure the English at 
Detroit have given the Indians droves of cattle and 
a lot of flour as a reward for such a blow in their 
interest. ’ ’ 

1 1 But , 9 9 Massie continued, ‘ ‘ I was saying that we 
are pretty safe, and now is my time to make loca- 
tions and surveys. I expect to spend the month 
of January doing that. I shall not go very far 
from our station, so that I can easily reach it in a 
day if it is necessary to retreat.” 

This was news and I listened with keen interest. 
Mr. Massie turned to me. 

“Morris, do you want to go with me? You can 
begin by being a chain carrier, and as you learn 
the business I will give you better work and more 
pay.” 

“I would like to go with you,” I replied with- 
out a moment’s hesitation. This was the work I 
wanted to learn to do. I had thought it all over 
many times, and my mind was made up that I 
would he one of Massie ’s band of surveyors. I had 


122 


Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

no fear of Indians when ont with him, for he was 
a wise leader and a brave fighter. He had been a 
soldier in the Revolution and had been trained in 
the woods. So I added with boyish partiality : 

‘ ‘ I would rather have you for a captain in a fight 
with the Indians than any officer in the army . ’ 9 

“ You do me more honor than I deserve. I mis- 
trust your words of praise are those of boyish ad- 
miration. But I shall take the best precautions to 
avoid the Indians. If they should ever attack me 
I hope they will find me ready for them; and I 
would die defending my men . 9 9 

‘ ‘If I can get somebody to keep Susie, I will go 
with you. How long will you be out?” 

“About a month or five weeks. It should not 
take us longer than that to survey the warrants I 
have . 9 9 

‘ ‘ Leave Susie with me, ’ 9 said Mrs. Gardner. ‘ 1 1 
shall be delighted to have her. We love each other, 
don’t we, Susie, and you will stay with me, won’t 
you!” 

“I do love you, Mrs. Gardner, and you have 
been like a mother to me. But I should be so far 
from Morris down here. Suppose he gets sick, or 
gets an Indian arrow in him. I must be there to 
nurse him and he would want me.” 


With Massie in the Woods 


123 


“Yes, I should, and while you are very kind to 
ask her to stay here, I think she would he more 
contented near the station. Mrs. Anderson will be 
glad to have you there, Susie. ’ ’ 

After some explanation on my part this arrange- 
ment was thought to be the best, and we decided on 
it. Then Mr. Gardner asked Mr. Massie to tell him 
about the land warrants. 

“There were several states that laid claim to 
most of this territory on the ground that their 
original colonial charters read ‘from Ocean to 
Ocean \ They understood also the value of the 
land, and after they were done fighting England 
you remember they were almost ready to fight each 
other because their claims overlapped. But hap- 
pily these conflicting interests were adjusted by 
the states surrendering their titles to the disputed 
region, in favor of the United States. Connecticut 
made a certain reservation and so did Virginia. 

“Of all the states Virginia made the most gen- 
erous offers of land to her Revolutionary veterans 
and soldiers. A private was promised two hun- 
dred acres; a non-commissioned officer four hun- 
dred ; a captain three thousand ; a colonel five thou- 
sand, and other officers in proportion. Many re- 
ceived their land in Kentucky; but before she 


124 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

separated from Virginia and became a state all 
the good land there had been taken up, and the 
Virginia Military District north of the Ohio was 
offered for entry.” 

“Why do you have to go to Louisville to make 
the entry!” 

“Colonel Robert C. Anderson was appointed 
principal surveyor and all entries and surveys 
have to be made through him. I spent some time 
in his office at Louisville assisting him and he ap- 
pointed me one of his deputy surveyors. O’Ban- 
non is one, and William Lytle another, and Lucas 
Sullivant and others. Here are some of the war- 
rants. Look at them.” 

After examining them Mr. Gardner asked why 
some of them were assigned to different persons in 
succession and finally to Massie, while others were 
still in the name of the person to whom they were 
issued. 

“Some soldiers were poor and needed money; 
others too infirm from their wounds to move West, 
and so they sold them, very cheap, I fear. Others 
have kept them in their own name. I buy these 
lands through my agents at Richmond for various 
prices. The others I shall enter for the owners 
and they will give me a share of the land for sur- 


With Massie in the Woods 125 

veying it. Usually in Kentucky the surveyor re- 
ceived one-fourth of the land, hut I would not run 
the risks of surveying in the region ravaged by 
hostile Indians, for that amount. The owners give 
me one half of the land for my share.’ ’ 

6 1 What will you do with these warrants in Col- 
onel Anderson’s office?” 

“I shall enter each in turn and he will copy 
them in a hook, stating the amount of land called 
for, and where it is to be located, as these, for in- 
stance, on the head waters of Brush Creek. Then 
the other deputies will not go to that locality to 
make surveys on their warrants.” 

I need not repeat all the details of the business 
as Massie explained it. These are the most im- 
portant parts. It was late that evening before 
we went to bed, for Massie told us some of his 
exciting experiences, ending up with a bear story 
that ought to have kept me awake ; but as it was 
long after my usual hour for retiring, I dropped 
asleep as soon as I had rolled myself up in my 
bearskin on the floor. I did not know when Massie 
came up. In the morning he was still asleep on a 
similar rug when I went down to stir up the fire 
and bring in wood. 

That day he went on to Louisville, and in two 


126 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

weeks returned. Meantime Susie and I kept on 
with our studies, but on the last day of the year 
the four of us started up the river in the open 
boat. Even with three paddles our progress was 
slow, and it was the fourth day when we reached 
our station, about the middle of the afternoon. 

It did not take long to complete our prepara- 
tions, and a few days later Susie was with Mrs. 
Anderson and I had my budget ready. We were 
all warmly clothed in oiled buckskin, which did 
not easily get water-soaked. Each carried a 
blanket, gun and ammunition, and a pouch con- 
taining five pounds of meal made from parched 
com. My share of the general baggage was the 
chain. Mr. Massie carried the surveyor’s com- 
pass, which was one of the old fashioned kind 
called a Jacob’s Staff. One man carried an ax 
and three others tomahawks. 

The snow was gently falling as our little party 
of seven left the station. Two hundred yards 
ahead of us marched Jack Giddings, a woodsman 
whom Mr. Massie had found in Cincinnati at 
Major McNeil’s house. He was our faithful 
hunter and spy, and a general utility man, who 
could do anything that needed to be done, with 
neatness and despatch. 


With Massie in the Woods 127 

In the middle of the morning, Jack gave a sig- 
nal, to which Massie replied by a wave of his 
hand. He halted ns at once, saying : 

“Keep perfectly still, hoys, Jack has sighted 
game.” 

Donalson, onr rear guard, was also halted and 
everything remained quiet until we heard the re- 
port of a gun. Then we cautiously advanced until 
Jack hailed us with the good news that he had 
killed a buck. The animal was bled and dressed 
and the best of the meat divided up so that each 
of the men had about twenty-five pounds, and I 
fifteen, for an additional load. We did not march 
with so light a foot after that, but before night 
we had reached the point on the creek where Mas- 
sie intended to begin his survey, and so went into 
camp. 

Jack and Israel scouted the neighborhood thor- 
oughly and reported that there were no traces of 
Indians ; so we made a large fire, broiled our veni- 
son and made a hearty meal. After supper we sat 
around the fire talking about the day’s trip and 
comparing it with other adventurous journeys in 
the forest, telling hunting stories and going over 
General St. Clair’s campaign. Then Jack told us 


128 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

about his trip down the river and the fight with 
the Indians near the Scioto. 

When the men began to yawn and Mr. Lytle was 
asleep, Massie said it was time to go to bed. We 
marched single file, stepping backward, until we 
were two hundred yards from the fire. Here we 
scraped away the snow, laid two blankets on the 
ground, covered ourselves with the others, and 
slept as soundly and peacefully and in nearly as 
much comfort as if in our cabins at home. 

I waked up early but Massie would not let any- 
one stir until there was a good light. Then Jack 
crept out cautiously and examined the grounds. 
Finding no Indians lying in ambush, he called out : 

“All safe.” We rose at once, built our fires, 
washed our faces in the snow, and cooked break- 
fast. As soon as we had eaten, Massie opened the 
box in which he carried his compass and fixed it on 
the ball socket of the staff. He drove the pointed 
end into the ground in a place by the stream which 
gave him an unobstructed view over a fine section 
of bottom land with rich uplands on each side. 
Five feet from the spot was an oak tree at the 
mouth of a small branch of the stream, coming 
from the west, and near by were a maple and a 
sycamore. On the oak he took out a section of 


With Massie in the Woods 129 

bark a foot square and in the center of the scar 
thus left, with a small chisel he cut the letter M. 
and blackened it with gunpowder. 

“Here is my first corner, Morris. Carry the 
flag up stream till I tell you to stop. Jack, you 
go along to guard him. If you see or hear any- 
thing suspicious, warn Morris and he will signal 
us and come back to me.” 

When I had gone about fifteen rods a large syca- 
more stood in the line and Massie signalled me to 
plant my rod. Wlien he had taken his reading 
from the compass, the chain man measured the 
distance and I noted the chains and links in the 
field book. Then Massie set the compass five feet 
southeast of the tree to mark an offset around it 
and another group not far beyond. This new line 
was measured off five chains, parallel to the first 
line, and then we began again in line with our first 
measurement. 

“I would not take all that trouble,” said Wil- 
liam Lytle. “You are as particular as Anthony 
Wayne in the thickly settled townships of Chester 
County, Pennsylvania. I would just walk around 
that tree and run along in the same direction as 
near as I could hit it easily. ’ ’ 

“I have as much ambition about my work as 


130 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

General Wayne has about his,” Massie replied. 

‘ 1 They say yon do yonr surveying on horseback, 
Lytle. How is that?” 

“ I won’t deny that I have sometimes done it so, 
Israel. But it was only where rough work would 
never be questioned. ’ ’ 

“I want my work to be done correctly. Bad 
surveying breeds bad blood among neighbors who 
should live peaceably side by side, instead of hav- 
ing quarrels and lawsuits about the lines of their 
land.” 

After following the meanderings of the stream 
for three miles we turned to the west, marking the 
corner on an elm tree, and measured off a line two 
miles long at right angles to the general course of 
the stream. Here on the top of a high hill a third 
corner was established on a red oak surrounded 
by three beech trees. Back again we went; south- 
east by south, parallel with the stream for two 
miles and a half, to a corner of four white oaks 
near a small stream running east, and then a trip 
down this brook brought us to the starting point. 

This was a good day’s work and we were glad 
to get back to camp, where Jack had a good fire 
and the smell of broiling meat made our mouths 
water for our supper. 



"THAT EVENING MR. MASSIE ASKED ME TO SIT ON A LOG BY HIM'" 







With Massie in the Woods 131 

That evening Mr. Massie asked me to sit on a 
log by him, and with the firelight shining on his 
field hook he mapped ont the tract surveyed. Then 
he explained to me the principles and methods of 
mensuration, and we computed the different areas 
and ascertained the whole acreage. 

“Here is Captain Maynard’s warrant for three 
thousand acres, of which I am to have one-half for 
my work, and there is a private’s claim for two 
hundred acres, which I have bought. This survey 
will just about satisfy those two warrants, as I 
expected. Tomorrow we will run a dividing line 
that will cut off my seventeen hundred acres at this 
end. When I survey the tract below I shall select 
my share adjoining this so that I shall get about 
three thousand acres here in one body.” 

We were not molested by Indians, and spent the 
rest of January and a week of Febiuary locating 
lands on Brush Creek up to the forks, and then up 
each of these successively until the best land had 
been selected and surveyed. We worked hard and 
through stormy weather, exposed to wet and cold 
and sometimes in a stiff north wind that cut our 
faces and chapped our hands. After the first two 
weeks the only food we had was the meat our 
hunters provided. Mr. Massie set us a good ex- 


132 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

ample of contentment and endurance. His cheer- 
fulness and good humor were contagious, and on 
the whole we were a lighthearted and jolly hand. 

When we reached the station after our work was 
completed I was satisfied with the money I had 
earned and a good bearskin, the prize of a hunting 
trip, which was worth four dollars. But my great- 
est satisfaction came from knowing that I had 
borne my part in an important expedition, and 
that I had learned much about the business, ac- 
quiring confidence from this experience, which 
would fit me for a more responsible post the next 
time I went out with Massie. 


CHAPTER XI 


KENTON ’s ATTACK ON TECUMSEH ’s CAMP 

The morning after onr return I went over to 
Mr. Anderson’s to see Susie and to bring her 
home. When I asked permission to he gone for 
two days, Mr. Massie said: 

“Be sure you come home tomorrow evening, for 
I have some work for you here. You may help me 
draw up these maps and plats and copy the de- 
scriptions of the surveys. I shall file them in the 
surveyor’s office, hut I want a copy of each my- 
self, and another to send to the owners of the 
warrants. ’ ’ 

“I will come hack tonight if you need me to- 
morrow. ’ ’ 

“No, stay and visit with Tom, if you like, hut 
he here for work early Friday. ’ ’ 

I found Susie well and in no hurry to come 
home, being very much interested in learning to 
spin under Mrs. Anderson’s efficient teaching. 
My sister was already showing some of those traits 
that have marked her busy life, for she was one 
133 


134 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

of those careful Marthas, whose homely ways and 
practical, kind-hearted usefulness add so much to 
the sum of human happiness. She wanted to stay 
longer, for she was not very proficient yet, and she 
was sure it would he worth a good deal to us if 
she could learn to spin well. Tom was determined 
I should stay a week, and Mrs. Anderson and all 
the family would hardly listen to me when I told 
them I must go hack the next day. I did not want 
to disappoint Mr. Massie, so we went home Thurs- 
day afternoon. 

Tom and I went over to see Kenton, whose home 
was not far from Mr. Anderson’s cabin. He was 
now the captain of a company of militia. He told 
us the Indians were getting restless, and would be 
in the woods earlier than usual watching the sta- 
tions for a chance to murder the men. He said we 
must be very careful not to go to work in the woods 
unless we had a strong, vigilant guard. However, 
February was a quiet month and March was well 
advanced before any trouble came. 

The snow had melted and the frost was coming 
out of the ground, when Tom came over with a 
message to Massie from Captain Kenton, that 
some Shawnees had made a raid in Kentucky not 
far from Limestone. But while Kenton was or- 


Kenton’s Attack on Tecumseh 135 

ganizing a company to pursue them, they returned 
and stole a number of horses from his neighbors, 
then passed down the river and crossed at Eagle 
Creek. It was thought that the leader was Te- 
cumseh, a young brave, just working his way, by 
force of his ability, into recognition as a chief. 

I listened very intently to the talk between Mas- 
sie and Tom ; and our men, who were crowded into 
the blockhouse, began to say that we must cer- 
tainly help Kenton with a file of men from the 
station. Massie put it to a vote and all agreed. 
He called for volunteers and selected five men. 
Tom turned to me saying: 

“I am going with Kenton. Come on. Mr. Mas- 
sie will let you go . 9 9 

“I want to go, for this may be an important 
battle and I would like to have a part in it.” 

“We cannot tell about that,” said Massie. “It 
is a good thing to repel these forays of the In- 
dians, and to follow up the bands and punish them. 
But many of these expeditions of the Kentuckians 
have not been wisely conducted, and so do not in- 
flict much damage on the murdering savages. Go 
if you choose. You will gain some valuable ex- 
perience and will be more useful to the station. 


136 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

Be cool-headed and careful, and obey your cap- 
tain.’ J 

“ That’s good advice, Morris,” said Mr. Andrew 
Ellison. “ These militiamen in Kentucky are too 
independent and do not obey orders, so they are 
defeated.” 

i ‘ 1 am glad you are going, ’ ’ said Tom. ‘ 1 Come 
right back with me, for I think the company will 
be ready to start by the time we get over there. ’ ’ 

After a hasty goodby to Susie, whom I left with 
Mrs. Ellison, and cheered on by the good wishes of 
all the men at the station, we crowded into Tom’s 
canoe and paddled down stream to Limestone. It 
was ten miles further to the point where the In- 
dians had crossed and there were not boats enough 
to carry thirty-six men that far, so we marched 
along the river and made rafts at the crossing 
place. 

Kenton was our Captain; Alexander McIntyre, 
the First Lieutenant; and Timothy Downing, the 
Second Lieutenant; Cornelius Washburn, a young 
man who was a very efficient scout, and had been 
serving as a spy on the river under Kenton’s com- 
mand, was one of the company. Samuel Barr 
went with us, and it proved to be his last march. 


Kenton’s Attack on Tecumseh 137 

Ben Whiteman, a ranger, did good service as one 
of our scouts on the march. 

It was dark when we got over the river, so we 
went into camp. Tom and I and Neil Washburn 
slept together, laying one blanket on the ground 
and pulling two over us, and were very comfort- 
able. But the next day it began to rain, a cold 
wind was blowing in our faces, and the march was 
disagreeable. At night we got into the wet, 
swampy region, passing through what are called 
the Slashes. 

The next morning before we broke camp Ken- 
ton found a number of the men were discontented. 
They wanted him to abandon the expedition and 
return home, saying that we had lost the trail and 
would wander about and accomplish nothing. Neil 
and Ben were positive that we were on the right 
trail, and that the Indians would travel so slowly 
today, or stop to hunt, that we were sure to catch 
up with them. 

Finally Kenton said: 

“We will excuse all that are faint-hearted and 
cowardly. If any are to desert or fly in a panic 
let them go now. I want no bra shy sticks of tim- 
ber. I want to know on whom we can depend in 


138 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

the fight. These boys have more courage than 
you. ’ ’ 

“Don’t call me a coward. I’ll go with you,” 
said one man who had wavered. Others resented 
Kenton’s words and there was some disputing. At 
last twelve men withdrew and left twenty-four of 
us to carry out the pursuit of the enemy. 

About noon, Ben heard a bell and told Kenton 
of it. We halted and Ben, Neil and Barr were 
sent out in different directions to find the Indian 
camp. McIntyre and two other men followed Ben 
and soon heard the bell, evidently on a horse ap- 
proaching them. They treed and succeeded 
in killing his Indian rider and capturing the 
horse. Kenton sent the spies on and they found 
the camp on the east fork of the Little Miami 
river, a few miles above the present village of 
Williamsburg. They reported to Kenton that the 
camp indicated a large band of warriors and he 
called us about him for a council. After some dis- 
cussion he said : 

“We have not men enough to be certain of vic- 
tory, if we attack a strong camp in the daytime. 
If those deserters had not lost their courage, but 
were here, I would risk a fight at once. If there 
are fifty or seventy-five in the camp we shall be 


Kenton’s Attack on Tecumseh 139 

defeated, and they will catch ns when we retreat. 
The best thing now for ns to do is to wait nntil it 
gets dark and make a night attack. The Indians 
are afraid of the dark. They are like children; 
they believe in ghosts, and witches and devils, and 
a night attack almost always pnts them into a 
panic. If we can snrronnd the camp and attack 
it at the same time when I give the signal, and 
make noise enough for a hundred men, most likely 
we shall start them to running like a pack of 
wolves. ’ ’ 

Kenton’s words were sensible and we knew that 
he spoke from a good understanding of the ways 
of the Indians. The company therefore decided 
to fall back to the hill behind us, which was a good 
place for defense if we should he discovered, and 
there wait for night. We were wet, cold and hun- 
gry, and our guns needed to he wiped out and 
dried. So leaving guards to watch the camp we 
went still further hack and made a fire in a hole 
in the ground, ate our supper in comfort and pre- 
pared for the fight. 

As soon as it grew dark enough to conceal our 
approach we returned to the appointed meeting 
place, and Neil reported that the camp was quiet, 
as the Indians for some time had been lying down 


140 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

beneath the little bark huts which they usually 
sleep under when they are on a march. So Ken- 
ton’s division, to which Tom and I belonged, tiled 
off to the right, and Downing ’s to the left, leaving 
McIntyre’s men in the center. All were to wait 
until our party gave the signal by tiring, when 
everyone was to yell and stamp around behind the 
trees, and then fire on the camp. 

Just as Downing’s party had taken its position 
an Indian crawled out and stirred up the fire near 
them, throwing out the light far into the woods. 
Downing was dismayed at this, and almost certain 
the Indian would see them and give the alarm. So 
he fired, killing the red man. Our whole band now 
joined in the attack, and, making all the noise we 
could, we fired at every Indian who showed him- 
self, and at the huts ; then we reloaded our guns. 

But we found we had a leader opposed to us who 
was of a different spirit from most of the Indians. 
Tecumseh* was one of the greatest military com- 

*Tecumseh (Indian form Tecumtha, meaning “the meteor”) 
was born in 1768, at a Shawano village on Mad river, about six 
miles south of Springfield, Ohio. His father was a chief in the 
Kiskopoke tribe of the Shawanoese, and was killed at the battle 
of Point Pleasant, Va., in 1774. 

Tecumseh’s oldest brother brought him up with great care, 
not only training him to much skill in hunting and in all the arts 


Kenton’s Attack on Tecumseh 141 

manders that the Indians ever had. His career 
shows a talent for every detail of military prep- 
aration and manoeuvre, that marks ability of a 
very high order. At this time, although only 
twenty-four years old, he met the emergency with 
courage and skill, keeping his band under perfect 
control. Springing to his feet at the first sound 
of a gun he called on his warriors to stand firm, 
and prepare to charge on their foes. 

In a few minutes we found we were in the thick 
of a hot fight. Tecumseh had rushed forward 
armed only with his warclub, and seeing Samuel 
Barr near him, struck him down with one blow, 

of warfare, but also instilling into his mind the cardinal virtues 
of manliness and courage and fortitude, and the love of truth 
and honor. He had always a horror of cruelty, and more than 
once interfered with the butchery of prisoners. 

He was a statesman as well as a great military leader. His 
ideal was the union of all the tribes into one confederacy or 
nation. On the eve of success, his brother, the Prophet, rashly 
precipitated war in Tecumseh’s absence and was defeated by 
General William H. Harrison at the battle of Tippecanoe, Nov. 
7th, 1811. Tecumseh returned from the South a few days after 
the battle to find his followers scattered and his plans broken up. 

Bitterly hostile to the United States, Tecumseh joined the 
English in the war of 1812. He commanded the Indian forces 
and was present at the surrender of Hull and at both sieges of 
Ft. Meigs. He was killed at the battle of the Thames, Oct. 5th, 
1813, when General Harrison triumphantly closed the campaign 
in the West by the defeat of General Proctor’s allied army of 
English and Indians. 


142 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

breaking bis skull. Barr never moved after be 
fell. 

Our watcbward was “ Boone,’ ’ wbicb was a mis- 
taken choice, for all tbe Indians knew bim by 
name. As soon, then, as they beard tbe cry, they 
took it up, thinking Boone was our leader, and 
cried out “ Boone, Che Boone,’ ’ all through tbe 
camp. That produced confusion and we could 
hardly tell friend from foe. About tbe same time 
an Indian running down by tbe river fell in, and 
in floundering about in tbe water, made so much 
noise that Kenton thought more Indians were com- 
ing over to join in tbe fight. He knew we were 
outmatched and gave tbe order to retreat, wbicb 
was repeated all along tbe line: “ Kenton says, 
‘Retreat.’ ” Our men gathered in one mass and 
began to move off. 

Charles Ward was near me and as I was reload- 
ing I saw bim aim bis rifle. I looked up as a 
young Indian came crawling out of one of tbe 
huts. 

“It’s a girl. I can’t shoot a girl, and I believe 
she’s half-white,” Ward said to me, and as I 
looked a second time I was sure be was right. 

“No! Don’t shoot a girl. You would always 
be sorry,” I answered, as I rammed down tbe bul- 


Kenton’s Attack on Tecumseh 143 

let and opened the pan of my gun to prime it. 
Just then we heard the order to fall hack. We 
supposed that we had killed a good many, hut 
after peace was established Stephen Ruddle came 
hack from the Indians, and told us that he had 
been in the Shawnee party and was in the camp 
that night. He said only two were killed and some 
wounded, and that their hand was no larger than 
ours. He also told us that there was another white 
man in the camp with his family. It was John 
Ward who had been stolen when he was about 
three years old and had become as much of an In- 
dian as the natives. Then Charles Ward was 
more than ever glad that he had not shot the girl, 
for she was his niece. 

Kenton and his men retreated rapidly, keeping 
well together, and although the Indians pursued 
them they did not succeed in killing any of the 
white men in the retreating company. But Mc- 
Intyre ran to the spot where the horse was tied 
and, mounting it, rode off and so was separated 
from the rest. Tecumseh and four of his men 
discovered his trail early in the morning and fol- 
lowed it, catching up with him when he was cook- 
ing his dinner just before noon. When he saw 
the Indians he fled, but Tecumseh gained on him. 


144 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

McIntyre stopped and raised his gun, but before 
be could pull the trigger, two Indians rushed out 
of the forest by bis side, seized bis arms and tied 
them, and took him back to their camp. 

Tecumseb thought the white men might return, 
so decided to move the camp and asked the In- 
dians to catch the horses. They did not do it and 
he went out himself to get the ponies, taking one 
of his dog-soldiers with him. When he returned 
he found the others had murdered McIntyre. Te- 
cumseh was very angry at their barbarous action. 
He upbraided them for their cruelty, and called 
it a cowardly act to kill a helpless prisoner. All 
through his life Tecumseh showed a broad-minded, 
large-hearted character. He did not sanction 
cruelty and his wars were not for revenge but in 
patriotic defense of the rights of his people. 

Kenton brought his men safely home on the 
third day, after a great deal of suffering from 
cold and hunger, for they had left all their provi- 
sions, with the blankets, in camp. But when Tom ’s 
father came over to Kenton’s cabin that night to 
inquire if there had been any news of our expedi- 
tion, he was shocked and distressed at the sad in- 
formation that his son was missing. Kenton told 
him the two boys had in some way dropped out of 


Kenton’s Attack on Tecumseh 145 

the company when the retreat began and no one 
had seen them since. His fear was that they had 
been wounded and then captured and probably 
killed. They had not been killed in the fight and 
were by his side when he called out “Retreat.” 
No one had seen them fall, and it was a mystery 
how or why they had disappeared. 

The fact was that Tom struck his foot on a root 
or stone as he was running and had a heavy fall. 
I stopped, of course, to help him up, for no one 
would desert a friend in such dire peril, when a 
helping hand might save his life. I dragged him 
up to his feet, and thought he was a little dazed as 
he started off. Perhaps he was turned around, or 
it might have been my mistake, for somehow, al- 
though we were detained but a moment, we 
strayed from the others. However, we kept on 
running at our topmost speed, and although we 
soon found that we were lost from our party, we 
were glad to see no pursuers behind us when we 
dared to look around. 

It was rainy weather, as I have told you, and 
the night was too dark for us by any means to tell 
the direction we were taking, but we kept running 
on as straight a course as we could until we were 
exhausted. When we stopped to get our wind and 


14.6 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

to rest, we took good care to hide in the hushes 
and to keep perfectly quiet, bnt as soon as we had 
recovered a little strength we traveled on again. 

When morning came we were sure we had gone 
at least twenty miles and Tom thought it might be 
twenty-five, but neither of us knew where we were. 
Of course, as soon as it began to get light we could 
tell the east, and by keeping to the south we knew 
we should sometime strike the Ohio river. One 
thing that seemed strange to me was that we had 
not crossed any large streams. I could not under- 
stand why we had not come to White Oak or Brush 
Creek and I thought we must have kept a pretty 
straight course south between some large creeks. 
If we could find some main stream and note its di- 
rection, we should perhaps be able to guess where 
we were. 

We talked the matter over several times and at 
last decided to take a southeast course, thinking 
that would bring us to the creeks, and then, in two 
days, to our station, or to some familiar part of 
the river or forest near the station. But as we 
went on that morning we came only to small 
streams, and since they headed one after another 
in a certain central direction I said to Tom : 

“We have made a mistake and come straight 


Kenton’s Attack on Tecumseh 147 

east. These are the head waters of either White 
Oak or Brush Creek. We are as far from the Ohio 
as when we started or perhaps farther.” 

“If yon are right the Indians won’t look for us 
here. I am dead tired and nearly starved. I hear 
some turkeys calling and I propose to kill a turkey 
and roast it and eat breakfast. Then we will cover 
up our tracks and hide ourselves and go to sleep. ’ ’ 

“I’m agreed to that, Tom. I think we are not 
in much danger here. ’ ’ 

So Tom got his turkey and we had a hearty 
meal, then, carefully hacking out to the little 
stream, we walked in the water for a mile and 
looked about for a dry place to sleep. After some 
search among the largest oaks we found a hollow 
one, crawled in through the low narrow hole, 
dropped to the ground and in a few moments were 
fast asleep. 

When, after a long time, I awoke, I could not 
remember for a few minutes where I was, or tell 
the hour of the day. I was in the dark and as the 
events of the night came hack to me I thought we 
had slept all day long. A streak of light shone in 
through a crack on the other side of Tom, who was 
still wrapped in slumber. I bent over him and 
made the startling discovery that a chunk of dead 


148 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

wood had been placed inside the hollow, filling up 
the hole through which we entered. 

Had Tom done this, or what had happened! 
Mystified and beginning to be alarmed, I shook 
Tom gently and then harder, until at last he woke 
up and began rather noisily to protest against be- 
ing disturbed. I closed his mouth with my hand 
and whispered to him to he quiet. 

‘ ‘ Did you put that chunk of wood in the hole ! ’ ’ 
“What chunk! What are you talking about! 
Where are we anyhow !” 

“You know when we crawled in here to sleep 
this morning we left the hole open. There’s a 
chunk of wood in it now and that is why it is dark 
in here. Did you get up and put it there ! ’ ’ 

“I haven’t been up. I slept sound all the time 
since you and I lay down in here. It’s very 
strange that anyone should find us and pen us in. ’ ’ 
“I think someone has done it to hide us. It is 
very mysterious.” 

It was indeed a mystery and we sat there a few 
minutes thinking about it. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE LARGEST SERPENT IN THE WORLD 

The only additional facts we discovered were 
that onr guns had not been disturbed and that the 
wood was not fastened. We concluded it had been 
placed there to screen us from discovery and 
therefore there must be Indians about the neigh- 
borhood. Perhaps some of our foes had followed 
us, Tom suggested. 

“ Hardly that, hut it may he so. Indians are 
said to be very cunning in picking up a trail, but 
they need daylight for it. Who has tried to shield 
us ? It must he Kenton or one of our hand. I am 
anxious to find out. Let us carefully peep out and 
see where we are, and if there are any signs of 
enemies. Look at your gun, Tom,” I said, taking 
up my own and trying the lock and examining the 
priming hy the streak of light. 

Quietly lifting the large piece of rotten wood a 
little to one side I looked out. The air was cold 
and frosty hut the sun was shining, and I thought 
149 


150 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

it was the near the middle of the day. I could see 
no person nor traces of anyone. 

“Let me see,” said Tom, and growing bolder 
after a brief survey, he crawled out, then finding 
no dangerous signs he told me to follow. 

“It’s noon,” I said. “Do you see any track, 
Tom? I don’t see any.” 

“There’s a foot mark, and there’s another, and 
they are not pigeon-toed, so a white man made 
them. Some friend has been here.” 

“I wish he would show himself then, and tell 
us where we are. We can’t wait for him. It’s 
dinner time, Tom. ’ ’ 

“I feel hollow as that tree. Let’s eat the rest 
of our turkey and then strike out for the river. ’ ’ 

We crawled hack into the tree and got our tur- 
key. It was not cooked very well, hut we thought 
it tasted good and left only the hones. Eefreshed 
by rest, sleep, and a good dinner, we thought we 
could make a long march before night. But just 
as we started we heard a low whisper : 

‘ ‘ Stop, hoys, the redskins he near. ’ ’ 

We turned and saw a man clad in buckskin from 
head to foot, except his warm heaver cap. 

“Josh!” I exclaimed in joyful surprise. 

“Softly, Morris. It mought be dangersome to 


The Largest Serpent in the World 1 5 1 

talk loud. Why, hoy, ye hev grown that large, I 
didn’t know ye,” he replied in a low tone. “Ye 
must git out of here. Step easy like a painter, till I 
pull ye out of this hornets ’ nest. ’ 9 

Josh led us hack to the stream, walking in the 
water for a mile till it entered a larger stream. 
As he paused, searching for a ford, he said : 

“Now, ye can breathe free. There was a hand 
of Indians camped a mile above ye. How did it 
so chance that ye wandered up here?” 

I then told him about Tecumseh’s raid, Kenton’s 
pursuit, and the night attack. J osh concluded that 
the Indians he had seen were a different hand. 

“Is this White Oak Creek?” Tom asked. 

“Its name, if so he it has one, is unbeknownst 
to me. I call it Painter’s Creek, because I had a 
little scrimmage with an ugly beast down by the 
next bend. It slews around into the big river 
about fifteen miles below Limestone.” 

“Did the panther scratch you?” Tom inquired. 

“He got his fore hooks on me an’ clawed my 
back into strings an ’ ribbins. Jest lit on me off an 
oak limb thirty feet high, an’ knocked me over 
like a toad stool. But I let leetle Sairy talk to him 
an’ he had no more to say.” 


152 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

“Who’s little Sarah? Are there any women 
out here?” Tom asked laughing. 

Josh lifted the rifle on his arm. 

“I call her Sairy fer an aunt of mine. She ain’t 
easy spoke like most wimmin, an’ when she lets 
drive nothin’ more needs to he said.” 

We both laughed at Josh’s reason for calling 
his gun Sarah and thought it was a good name. 

4 ‘This is White Oak,” I said. “It looks so nar- 
row and shallow up here, that we must he a good 
many miles from the river. ’ ’ 

“It’s more than one day’s tramp fer a man. 
Ye’d have to he in fine feather to stump it in less 
than two days fer there he many hills to climb. 
Ye’ll lose yer hair if ye go that way now, fer the 
hand ye were fighting may he searchin’ fer strag- 
glers in that part. Ye must circle around east of 
Massie’s place an’ strike the river above it.” 

Josh soon brought us to a shallow place and we 
waded through the riffle and down the stream un- 
til we struck a deep pool. There we left the water 
and went at a rapid pace in a southeasterly course. 
Josh wasted no time in talking, hut led us on for 
ten miles through a region of rolling land and low 
hills. After that we passed over a broken country 
with high hold hills and rocky precipices here and 


The Largest Serpent in the World 153 

there. The sun was getting low behind us when 
we came out into fine bottom lands stretching 
along the margin of another fair sized stream. As 
we came to it I looked up and down, and said 
positively : 

“ I know where we are now. This is the east 
fork of Brush Creek. I was here two months ago 
with Massie.” 

“Mebbe that’s one reason why the Indians went 
over into Kentucky. It angers them to hev ye 
leavin yer marks on the trees, to show that ye hev 
taken possession of their lands. If they ketch ye 
with yer compass they will tomahawk ye before 
ye can say Jack Robinson.” 

“Massie takes good care to keep out of their 
way. He will make a good fight if ever they attack 
him. There is a good ford a half mile below here, 
if you want to cross over. ’ ’ 

“I know it. We will cross there. It’s a lee tie 
unhandy to come so fur around, but I’ve brought 
ye to a safe place. Don’t be uneasy now. We will 
camp a mile below here.” 

In a few minutes we crossed over and for a pre- 
caution walked down the riffles and in the shal- 
low water at the margin of the stream until we 
came to a brook flowing in between hills about a 


154 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

hundred feet high. We walked up the brook until 
we passed around the southern hill and were out 
of sight of Brush Creek. 

“Here we can light up an’ cook our meat an’ ye 
kin sleep all night, and no Indian will hurt ye, be- 
cause it’s a sacred spot to them.” 

“Why is it sacred? I have been over this 
ground and I saw nothing to mark it from other 
places. Have they got a meeting house here or a 
graveyard ? 9 9 

“Both of them such as they use. Ye were not 
looking for such places an’ so ye did not notice it. 
But when I have showed it to ye in the morning 
ye will never forgit it. It’s too dark to see it to- 
night, although we will sleep there. I see ye boys 
are empty handed an’ I must give ye yer supper.” 

“We had a turkey yesterday but we ate it all.” 

“I hev enough,” Josh replied, taking out of his 
buckskin pouch a good sized deer ham. We now 
gathered dry twigs and bark and limbs that are 
always to be found under old trees, and soon a 
cheerful fire was blazing surrounded by strips of 
meat on sticks, the fat sizzling with the heat and 
sending forth a fragrance delicious to our nostrils. 

When a generous supply had been piled on a 
large piece of bark we sat down with our feet to 


The Largest Serpent in the World 155 

the fire and enjoyed onr snpper. After an hour 
of rest and talk Josh said we would go to bed. He 
led us up the hillside to an old oak tree under 
which we stopped. 

4 ‘Morris, d’ye see that hole up there? Ye air 
spryer than I he. If ye’ll climb up thar ye’ll find 
some bedclothes that will keep us warm tonight. 
I sometimes stop here, an’ that’s my closet, whar 
I store my bedding. ’ ’ 

“That’s a jolly good plan, Josh, and it comes 
handy tonight,” I said, as Tom gave me a boost 
to the lowest limb. 

I found three bearskins and some dressed buck- 
skins. I threw down two of the latter, and all the 
bearskins, and with them we slept dry and warm. 
We walked along a narrow ridge down towards 
Brush Creek and then entered a shallow basin 
about thirty feet wide and three times as long. It 
was on the edge of the bluff a hundred feet above 
the water. Large trees grew all about and it was 
a sheltered cosy spot for a camp. 

In the morning Josh made us lie still until he 
examined our surroundings to know whether any 
Indians were lurking about. When he called us 
we looked around with a good deal of curiosity. 
From the edge of the bluff we could see some dis- 


156 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

tance over the bottom lands along Brush Creek 
and then over the trees we could faintly distin- 
guish, like low-lying clouds, some far-distant hill- 
tops which Josh said were on the Ohio, the high- 
est of course being in Kentucky. It was a very 
beautiful view. Northeast of us were other lofty 
hills, many miles away, being, as I afterward 
learned, the highest peaks in the region named 
Highland County. 

Tom and I did not linger long over the view, 
for we could see far finer ones any day by climb- 
ing the heights along the Ohio river. We turned 
back and walking along the circular ridge sur- 
rounding the hollow in which he had slept, we 
soon discovered that it was one of those mounds 
so numerous in Ohio, but so wonderful and per- 
plexing. There were several in Cincinnati, which 
I had seen, and a number at Marietta of which 
Massie and Donalson had told us. 

This one was oval in form, about one hundred 
feet long and thirty wide. The soil had been 
thrown or carried up to form a wall four or five 
feet high and twelve feet wide. Large trees were 
growing on the top of it and in the excavated hol- 
low, showing that it must have been thrown up 
two hundred years or more before we saw it. 


The Largest Serpent in the World 1 57 

“Ye hev not seen the most singular part of it, 
Morris, ,, said Josh, joining ns. “Come this way.” 

He stepped down through another hollow and 
up on a similar ridge, and indicated two outlying 
arms that seemed to enclose the circular mound. 
We then walked hack along the top of the mound, 
which was of the same size as the circle and ran in 
graceful undulating folds up towards the higher 
ground, for a distance of a quarter of a mile, I 
should say. At the end it wound around in three 
coils tapering to a small point. 

“What do you think of that?” Josh inquired. 

“It’s a monstrous snake,” cried Tom, and I 
said the same. 

“Yes, it’s a sarpint, an’ I reckon it’s the biggest 
sarpint in the world. ’ ’ 

We examined it all along as we returned. That 
it was not a natural wonder hut had been built by 
men, was a self-evident fact. The trees growing 
on it proved it was very ancient. When we had 
returned to the head near the circular mound, we 
saw that the neck was wider, being about thirty 
feet across, and then we understood that the two 
arms were the jaws of the serpent’s mouth. 

“The round mound is egg shaped, and is meant 


158 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

for an egg. It’s a sarpint with an egg in its 
month . 9 9 

“Who could have made it? Not the Indians, 
for they are too everlastingly lazy,” Tom asked 
of Josh. 

“I know no more about it than ye. It’s my no- 
tion that they were a better kind of people than 
the Indians, who had towns to live in and culti- 
vated the land, and had a higher kind of religious 
service. They thought a deal of their religion to 
take all this trouble to build such an earthen im- 
age at their meeting place.” 

“It was a lot of work, and especially when they 
didn’t have wagons or carts to haul dirt in, nor 
horses to pull them, nor plows to scrape it up. 
They must have scraped it up with bone hoes and 
wooden shovels, and carried it in baskets.” 

‘ ‘ I reckon ye hev guessed right about that, Mor- 
ris. They had no iron tools, nor animals to help 
them . 9 9 

“Why did they make a snake? Why not a 
higher animal, like a bear, or a deer or a panther ? 9 9 

“That’s another hard question, Morris. And 
when you once begin to think about it there are 
many more. But I have read that the snake was 
considered very intelligent by some nations. The 


The Largest Serpent in the World 159 

Bible says the serpent was more subtle than any 
beast of the field and we read in the New Testa- 
ment, 1 Be ye wise as serpents and harmless as 
doves.’ The Egyptian kings wore a figure of a 
snake on their caps, and in India they worship 
serpents. ’ ’ 

I looked at Josh in some astonishment, for his 
uncouth way of talking had given me the impres- 
sion that he was an uneducated man. But now he 
seemed to recall his past knowledge and at the 
same time he expressed it in good language. 

“Do you think this old race were snake worship- 
ers!” Tom inquired. 

“Not necessarily because they made this figure 
of a serpent. It may be a representation of a great 
idea in their religion, their theology. This egg 
may be meant for the world, but how they came to 
know the world is round is very strange. The 
serpent may be meant to represent the Creator 
giving birth to the world or protecting it by his 
care.” 

Tom whistled to show his surprise, for most of 
the men of that day believed the world was flat. 
I had suppressed my wonder at the intelligence 
Josh revealed, but Tom turned around and asked: 

“Where in thunder did you learn that, Josh!” 


i6o Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

“It’s part of the things I used to take an inter- 
est in before my troubles fell upon me. Now I 
guess you boys have seen all there is to be seen up 
here and you can think about it after you get home. 
We must git our grub and begin our tramp. I’ll 
take ye home and take the measure of your foot 
today. Yer parents will be oneasy, Tom, an’ Susie 
will be cryin’ her eyes out fer Morris, an’ so I’ll 
put ye to an Indian’s step today.” 

So saying, Josh led us down the hill, and there 
was a fire with meat broiling as on the night be- 
fore. We ate all the food he had and were hungry 
still. Then Josh took us down the creek in the 
water for some distance and after that down the 
valley of Brush Creek. After going three hours 
in this way, he told us to rest while he took a shot 
at a flock of turkeys we could hear in the distance. 
He returned in a little while with a forty pound 
gobbler. 

“We will rest longer. Ye boys kin pluck and 
clean it an’ I’ll strike a fire.” 

He seemed absorbed in thought and had re- 
lapsed into his usual taciturnity; and when he 
spoke it was in the rude language current among 
the settlers in the hills of Virginia along the Ohio 
river. After a silent lunch and more than an 


The Largest Serpent in the World 1 6 1 

hour’s rest, we began our journey again, pushing 
along the course of Brush Creek until it deflected 
to the east about twenty miles from the station. 
Here we turned southwest, winding among the 
hills and climbing some of the long ridges until 
night fell and we were still ten miles from our 
destination. 

“Ye hev done well, boys. Ye will larn to keep 
step with the Indians, if ye take long strides as 
yer legs grow. We will camp here, but it ’s not safe 
to make a fire. We will do like the Indians, make 
a bark hut to break the wind and lie close to keep 
warm . 9 9 

Josh showed a skilful hand at this and with our 
help soon had a snug shelter. We slept soundly 
in spite of the cold night. The next morning we 
took an early start and an hour after sunrise Josh 
parted with us on the hillside above the station. 
He declined all our urgent invitations to go in with 
us and stay awhile, and our request that he would 
come to visit us. 

We did not forget to thank him, and he was 
touched by our gratitude, and plainly showed that 
he was glad to know and to be with us. 

“I’ll see ye agin, boys, some day in the woods. 


162 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

I must go back to my own ways and watch the In- 
dians. Goodby and good luck to ye.” 

He waved his hand and was gone. We watched 
him out of sight and then went down the hill to the 
station where, after telling our story to our 
friends, we took up our old home life as usual. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE FIRST CAMP BY THE SCIOTO 

The excitement produced by our skirmish with 
Tecumseh and the loss of Samuel Barr and Alex- 
ander McIntyre, gradually subsided. We saw no 
signs of Indians about the station and concluded 
that they were occupied in watching the larger 
settlements, or in originating some plans to make 
forays and overwhelm them. 

If they came about our stockade to watch it they 
always found it so well guarded, that they must 
have been convinced that any attack on us would 
cost them dear, and therefore they sought easier 
prey. 

My trip with Kenton had a new and distinct ef- 
fect upon me. From this time I lost my fear of 
the Indians. It was nothing like rash presump- 
tion that took possession of me, hut a firm confi- 
dence, that supported me in every hazardous en- 
terprise, enabled me to meet perils with courage, 
and to endure hardships with fortitude. 

Along with this feeling of confidence I had 
163 


164 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

grown more observant, and able to draw more cor- 
rect conclusions about what was happening 
around me, and to form a quicker and better judg- 
ment as to what should be done. Therefore, while 
I was bolder in my feelings, I was at the same 
time more truly cautious and was better prepared 
to avoid danger. 

This was what Massie had meant by saying that 
I would get some valuable experience from the 
expedition, and so would be a stronger member 
of the company. This union of caution and confi- 
dence was the usual characteristic of the frontiers- 
men. They did not despise danger, but became so 
accustomed to it as to regard it no more than any 
other difficulty in their surroundings. An under- 
taking was, therefore, not to be given up simply 
because it was dangerous. The hazard was taken 
into account and provision made to overcome it. 

This, then, was the reason why Massie under- 
took another surveying trip late in the spring, up 
the bottom lands of the streams northwest of us, 
toward the Little Miami river, the very region 
where we had our- trouble with Tecumseh. He had 
received another large package of land warrants 
from his partners in the East, and wished to locate 
them and have them out of the way. 


The First Camp by the Scioto 165 

I can hardly give yon a fair and adequate im- 
pression of the confidence Massie inspired in all 
the men who went out under him. In the first 
place he was one of the best woodsmen I have ever 
known. He was never lost in the forest, but al- 
ways knew where he was, and in what direction 
and how far he must go to reach any point he de- 
sired to make. He seemed to carry a map of the 
country he never forgot its physical features. He 
at that day not only were there no accurate maps 
of Ohio in existence, but such as they were, we had 
none of them. When Massie had been over a 
country he never forgot its physical features. He 
kept in mind the run of the streams and the range 
of the hills, the extent of the level lands and the 
location of the swamps. 

Massie never needed a compass. On a cloudy 
or foggy day he was as sure of his direction as 
when the sun was shining, for he could read at a 
glance those signs of the forest which told the 
points of the compass. Then, too, he remembered 
the direction he was traveling and seldom failed 
to estimate the distances correctly. 

This surveying tour was much like the first one, 
because we had the same company and for some 
time met with no unusual incidents. After ex- 


166 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

ploring the branches of White Oak we crossed over 
to the Little Miami, and followed General Har- 
mar’s old trace, making short excursions to the 
right, up the streams feeding the river. We had 
finished the surveys for the warrants in Massie ’s 
hands, hut as the Indians were not seen we kept 
on exploring the fertile bottoms of these streams, 
until we were much farther from our base than we 
had intended. 

One morning, quite early, we had begun our 
labors for the day, and Massie was in advance 
leading us along the river not far from where the 
city of Xenia now stands. William Lytle, coming 
a few rods behind us, discovered an Indian 
crouched behind a tree with his gun aimed at Mas- 
sie. Lytle lifted his own rifle and fired without 
an instant’s pause, and the Indian fell to the 
ground, dead. Massie jumped to a tree suppos- 
ing the shot was fired at him, not having perceived 
the Indian. 

After a hasty consultation Jack was sent ahead, 
while we cautiously followed. On his discovery of 
a large camp of Indians we quietly withdrew and 
beat a hurried retreat to our station. The Indians 
found our traces, and pursued us but did not over- 
take us on the way, and we reached the protection 


The First Camp by the Scioto 167 

of the stockade before they could make any attack 
upon our party. 

That journey was hard on me, for besides my 
share of the camp baggage, I had two bearskins 
which, in their green state, weighed several pounds 
apiece. Jack urged me to throw them away, for 
the load was too heavy for me in the run we were 
making. Massie saw me taking them up when we 
were ready to start about three o’clock the next 
morning. 

“ Throw them in White Oak, Morris. You will 
lag behind and we cannot go slow to keep with 
you. It would endanger our lives to wait for you 
if you get behind.” 

However, I was not willing to do that, and as it 
was only a day’s trip from the station, I hid them 
in the fork of a tree, blazing the other trees around 
it. The nearer we came to the station the more 
anxious we were to save our scalps. We would 
imagine the Indians were gaining on us, and might 
be on top of the hill before we reached the bottom, 
or might go round one side while we ran around 
the other. We kept our guns in order so we could 
make a good fight if they overtook us. When 
night came we kept right on our way, and by do- 


168 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

ing so reached the station before morning and 
probably saved onr lives. 

A month later when Jack went ont to hunt I 
went with him. We ventured on to White Oak, 
and I brought in my skins in time to save them 
from being spoiled. I scraped and cleaned them, 
washing them every day in brain water, until I 
worked them up into a sound and pliable condi- 
tion, then in the fall I sold them for a good price. 

This summer passed in the usual way, in plant- 
ing and cultivating corn, clearing land and burn- 
ing the brush and logs. I was growing, and my 
muscles were hard and firm. It was my pride and 
joy that I was given a man’s work to do, and that 
I could do it with ease and increasing skill. Tom 
came to see me and I visited him. Susie was an 
efficient housekeeper. The woods supplied us with 
game and the river with fish, but we got much 
more out of our life than merely to eat and drink, 
to work and sleep. 

There was always something going on. If it 
was a hunt there were varied incidents, not only to 
enliven the day for the hunters, but to give enjoy- 
ment to the rest, as they were related by the even- 
ing fireside. We were a cheerful set of men and 
women, cooped up in a small stockade, congenial 


The First Camp by the Scioto 169 

in our tastes, and strong in our sympathy for each 
other. Massie was the ruling spirit, a leader and 
adviser in every undertaking and, being cheerful 
himself, ready to encourage any who became low- 
spirited in a time of hardships or danger. 

When winter came on Massie proposed to us to 
go on an exploring excursion to the Paint Creek 
and Scioto lands. As this was the region where 
the Shawnees roamed, and in which were some of 
their villages, a land they called their own, al- 
though they had come here from the south within 
less than half a century, it took a good bit of cour- 
age to assent to his proposal. But we said, 1 ‘ Mas- 
sie is a good captain. He won’t run into danger 
heedlessly and if we encounter it he will make a 
good fight for our lives. Let us go . 9 9 

Massie did not take more than one gang of sur- 
veyors, as it was for exploration rather than sur- 
veying, that he planned the trip. As he wanted 
the best hunters and rangers for a guard, he in- 
vited Captain Kenton to go with him and to bring 
some of his best men. Captain Helm came with 
Kenton and a number of good men whose names I 
have forgotten. 

Fortunately, we did not run across any Indians. 
Where they were all this time I do not know, but 


170 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

day after day we went over the southwestern part 
of what is now Ross County, saw those fine fertile 
valleys and made some surveys of them. 

Most of the time the air was mild and the 
ground was bare. We could see the quality of 
the soil, and the splendid timber that grew on it 
was further proof of its wonderful fertility. I 
cannot describe my enjoyment of the beautiful 
scenes along Paint Creek as I saw them for the 
first time. As we went down the stream, and one 
charming valley after another opened before us, 
I thought I had never been in a place of such per- 
fect natural beauty ; and I can say now that I have 
never since beheld, in any of the parks adorned by 
the art of man, more charming spots than those 
lovely valleys, where the white tail of the brows- 
ing deer was the only sign of life, and where no 
sound was heard but the murmur of the rippling 
waters and the sigh of the wind. 

One day while we were on Paint Creek I went 
out alone to hunt, for we had become almost as 
confident in the heart of the forest as in our own 
lands. Before I got a deer I was interrupted, and 
this is the way it happened. Silas Holbrook, one 
of Kenton’s party, was smoking by the campfire. 


The First Camp by the Scioto 171 

He rose, knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and 
stretched his long legs and arms. 

“I am getting lazy in this humdrum life; 
where are the bloody-handed Shawnees! I came 
with you because I thought we should have a 
brush with the Indians. I am tired of this. I 
wish I was at home where we could get up some 
excitement. This quiet land is deader than a 
graveyard/ ’ 

“Don’t he too anxious to find the warlike Shaw- 
nees,” Kenton answered. 1 ‘This is their country 
and probably they have villages within thirty 
miles of us. If one of them should discover us, he 
might raise an army within a few hours that 
would give you devilment enough to turn that 
black head of yours whiter than tow . 9 9 

“Anything to make a diversion. Morris Patter- 
son is over the other side of that hill. I will make 
him think I am a Shawnee and scare the life out of 
him. You will see him running in here like a rab- 
bit, with his red hair standing up so stiff it will 
raise his coonskin cap off of his head . 9 9 

“Morris won’t scare and you will get a rifle ball 
in your thigh,” Kenton said, and Captain Helm 
tried to dissuade Holbrook, adding : 


172 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

“I think it’s foolish and cruel to try such 
tricks. ’ ’ 

Holbrook would not listen to reason, and hav- 
ing tied some turkey feathers in his black hair, 
daubed some of the red clay from the cliffs of 
Paint Creek* on his cheeks, and wrapped a blanket 
around his tall form, he stalked off, looking very 
much like an Indian. 

I knew nothing of all this, of course, and with- 
out any suspicion of Indians being near was 
rather more off my guard than I should have been. 
It had been an hour of quiet enjoyment. The deep 
silence of the forest, so irksome to Holbrook, was 
a great charm to me. I stood on the hilltop for 
some time, and the solemn hush of the woods 
quieted my spirit after the noisy talk of the camp, 
and lifted my thoughts above the littleness of my 
daily life into a perception of something larger 
and better. One who is of a reflecting spirit can- 
not be among the mighty trees under the wide 

*Along the valley of Paint Creek an oxide of iron is found 
in the crevices of slate and limestone rocks. This red powder, 
or clay, was highly prized by the Indians as war paint, and for 
decorating their faces at their dances. Many parties visited the 
valley after it was settled, to procure supplies of the clay. The 
old residents often saw them searching the cliffs near the falls 
of Paint Creek and on the face of the slate hill known as Cop- 
peras Mountain. This deposit gave the name of Paint Creek. 


The First Camp by the Scioto 173 

canopy of heaven, without being touched by the 
sense of the sublimity of this great world in which 
we live. And from the perception of the sublime 
it is but a step to the recognition of the Creator of 
the universe and a desire to know Him. 

As I went down the north side of the hill I came 
upon the fresh tracks of a large buck, and was 
stooping over examining them when I was startled 
by a sudden mighty yell behind me, so close that it 
seemed at my very ear. I leaped to my feet and 
as I wheeled around, saw an Indian about fifty 
feet from me. I dashed behind a large oak tree 
and raised my rifle. My assailant also treed, but 
his cover was entirely inadequate for his large 
body, as the tree was not more than a foot in di- 
ameter, and I saw that I had a decided advantage. 

He began to make all manner of threats in 
broken English and unintelligible guttural sounds, 
calling on me to surrender. 

“Me kill. Me scalp. O-saw-ba-ma. Me big 
Shawna. Surrender . 9 9 

I made no reply but kept my finger on the trig- 
ger. I could wound him at any time, but I waited 
for a better mark. After a few minutes my enemy 
held out the butt of his gun and cried, “Me sur- 
render. ’ ’ 


174 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

Of course I thought this was only a trick and as 
the buck seemed to know a little English I called 
out, “ Throw your gun away, heap away.” 

The Indian complied. 

“ Throw your knife, heap away.” 

The knife flew off by the rifle. This was pretty 
good and I began to feel elated with the thought of 
capturing a big Indian. 

“Now come out, if you know English, and hold 
up your hands. ’ ’ 

A tall man in Indian dress stepped out saying, 
“Don’t you know me, Morris'? I am Silas.” 

But I did not lower my rifle, and looking along 
it exclaimed in a harsh voice : 

“Halt. I’ll see if you are a tricky Indian, or a 
meaner white man. Say the fours and fives of the 
multiplication table. ’ ’ 

“Put down your gun and stop your nonsense, 
Morris. You know me, of course.” 

“I thought I knew a better man named Silas 
Holbrook. You began this nonsense and you can 
do what I say, or I’ll march you into camp just as 
you are,” I said in an angrier tone still, looking 
along my rifle barrel. I was thoroughly mad by 
this time, and as there was no help for it Silas 
went through his lesson. 


The First Camp by the Scioto 175 

“Five times eleven are fifty-five, five times— ” 
and then there was a shout as Kenton and Helm 
rose up at one side of us. 

“Ha-ha— Ha-ha/ ’ roared Kenton. 

“Well done, Silas,’ ’ said Captain Helm. “You 
have Morris well scared. I think I see his coon- 
cap rising on his hair now . 9 7 

“So you were in this trick too, were you?” I 
cried out, getting hot at them all. 

“Oh no. We begged Silas not to try to fool 
you. On honor he’s the only one to blame. You 
have the laugh on him, and he is well paid,” and 
Kenton roared again. 

Holbrook was deeply mortified and grew sullen 
and began to make threats. Kenton told him I 
had let him off easy and made him shake hands 
with me. My anger began to subside, and in a 
little while we were as good friends as ever, which 
was the way in our frontier life. We had our 
quarrels but when they were over we did not 
cherish resentment; we renewed our friendly in- 
tercourse. 

As I had not secured the deer, which had been 
frightened off by the noise Holbrook made, Ken- 
ton and Helm went off the next morning on a hunt 


176 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

towards the north fork. On their return, Kenton 
told Massie he had done some surveying. 

“Kentucky way, I suppose. Where was it?” 

“Up north of here a few miles. Beyond the two 
creeks that run east, side by side about a mile 
apart. ’ 7 

“I know them. We might call them Twin 
Creeks.” 

“North of there is a hill I call Porcupine, for we 
had a fight with one. IPs four miles. Then you 
go down into a valley, and it’s a fine one, and it’s 
there I marked off my thousand acres. ’ ’ 

“Where is your description?” 

“In my head, I had no paper.” 

In fact Kenton could just manage to scratch his 
name in a rude way. 

“If I get time I will go up there with you and 
run a survey for you, and you can buy a warrant 
to cover it. ” 

But when Massie had finished his own work one 
of the men was sick and Kenton refused to keep 
us to make the survey for him, but urged us to 
start for home. He asked me to write off his de- 
scription, which was a very crude and inaccurate 
one, you may be sure. He had blazed trees for 
corners, marking them with three cuts of his 


The First Camp by the Scioto 177 

tomahawk, making a rude K. and pacing the dis- 
tance between them. Massie laughed over his 
paper and said : 

“I don’t think Anderson will accept that, hut 
you can try. I will tell the deputies to let your 
land alone until you can have it properly surveyed 
and entered.” 

When Kenton reached home he placed the pa- 
per in a chink between the logs of his cabin wall 
and went off on a scouting trip up the river. Af- 
terwards when he looked for it he could not find it, 
for the cabin had been freshly daubed in his ab- 
sence. The surveyors, however, respected his 
claim to the land and passed it by, and everyone 
supposed it had been properly entered in his name. 

We came home by easy marches and saw no In- 
dians on the whole trip. My little cabin seemed 
really home to me as I entered it that afternoon. 
My sister Susie was no longer a little girl. Nearly 
thirteen and large for her age, strong and capable, 
with a deep affection for me and real interest in 
making the home bright and comfortable for us, 
she made me feel that I had a family to love and 
support, instead of being alone in the world. 

I spent a few days writing for Mr. Massie, and 
then he went to Louisville to enter up his surveys 


178 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

and for some time our life was a quiet one. After 
the hardships of a winter tour it was pleasant to 
have a roof over my head, to sit at a table with 
Susie supplied with nice dishes, and to sleep in a 
comfortable bed with no fear of a savage attack be- 
fore morning. 


CHAPTER XIV 


PATHFINDING ON THE SCIOTO 

When Mr. Massie returned he told ns consider- 
able news. General Anthony Wayne had a large 
and well drilled army ready to come down the 
Ohio in a few weeks. He would be able to conquer 
the Indians and in a short time we should have 
them in a peaceable state; hut in the meantime, 
President Washington was negotiating with the 
Indians through the great chief, Brant, and he 
hoped to have them sign a treaty of peace without 
a war. 

This news was of great importance to us all as 
it directly affected our safety and prosperity. 
With the Indians at peace thousands of emigrants 
would flock to the territory to settle ; boats would 
be coming down the river every day, and, best of 
all, the Virginians who owned land warrants 
would come to live in this part of the territory, 
and we should have plenty of neighbors, and work 
for all our surveyors. 

Massie had such firm faith in the speedy de- 
179 


180 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

velopment of the territory that he was planning 
to take advantage of the opportunity to buy up 
the warrants while they were still cheap. There- 
fore he soon took a journey to the East to collect 
all the money due him for surveying, and to sell 
his lands if possible and raise money to buy more 
warrants. Others might wait till peace was estab- 
lished if they chose ; he had seen the rise of land 
in Kentucky, and he foresaw the same expansion 
in our territory. 

Our life was not harassed by the Indians for 
some time. Wayne transported his army down the 
river and gave them something to do, watching 
his movements and puzzling over his plans. Most 
of them, however, were quietly gathering on the 
Maumee for a general council. 

One evening about the middle of April Susie met 
me as I came in with my ax on my shoulder after 
a day of chopping on my outlot. 

“Mrs. Ellison is worrying about Andrew. He 
hasn’t come home, and she is crying, for she is 
sure the Indians have got him. ’ 9 

“Did he go up the river to his farm?” 

“Yes, he went up after breakfast as usual, tak- 
ing his dinner in his pouch. It’s getting late, and 
he always comes back before this time.” 


Pathfinding on the Scioto 1 8 1 

I saw Mrs. Ellison talking to Nathaniel 
Beasley, who was the commander of the station 
while Massie was absent this spring. She was 
urging him to send out a searching band. I at 
once offered to go, for the Ellisons had been very 
kind to Susie and me in our orphan state. 

Mr. Beasley, however, was afraid of an ambus- 
cade, which could not be easily discovered in the 
evening dusk, and would not risk our lives. After 
a night of anxiety several of us went out early in 
the morning, and we soon discovered that the In- 
dians had surprised their victim not very far from 
the station, on his way up the river. His farm 
was one of those which Mr. Massie had deeded 
that spring to the original members of the com- 
pany who built the station. He had given me a 
deed to one hundred acres on Gift Ridge still far- 
ther up the river. 

The Indians had caught Andrew and led him to 
the top of a high, steep hill, where they tied him to 
a tree, while they spent some time scouting to dis- 
cover if he was missed and any pursuit made. 
Satisfied about this they returned, cut the buffalo 
thong, made him take off his shoes and put on 
moccasins and then made off with him towards 
Paint Creek. 


182 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

We read all this from the signs we discovered, 
and, after a long consultation, we agreed that the 
Indians wanted to take him captive, not to kill 
him, but to get some information out of him about 
the movements of the army. If we pursued them 
they would kill him; otherwise they would spare 
his life, and he might get a chance to escape or to 
ransom himself through the English officers in 
the North. We heard nothing more about him for 
several months. The woods had swallowed him 
up, and days of anxiety followed nights of sorrow 
without any tidings to bring relief. 

Then one morning in September Andrew came 
to the gate and had to ask to be admitted before 
the guard recognized him. When the happy wife 
and children gave him a chance to tell his story, 
he said that the Indians had carried him to their 
village near the Scioto river, and that he ran the 
gantlet there. Being a large man and not very 
active he received a terrible beating. As soon as 
he could travel they took him North, and at De- 
troit a kind Englishman, named Brent, bought 
him from the Indians with a blanket. Mr. Brent 
gave him a good suit of clothes and money for his 
expenses. He took passage on a sloop for Niagara, 
and the Captain put him off at the mouth of the 


Pathfinding on the Scioto 183 

Cuyahoga river. He crossed by land to the Ohio 
and so down to the station by boat. 

Not long after his return Mr. Massie began to 
organize a large company to locate and survey 
lands on the Scioto. 

“You will have a place for me on this trip, will 
you not V 9 1 asked him. 

“If course I shall. You are becoming necessary 
to me, Morris. You shall be my flagman and gen- 
eral assistant with the field notes. ’ ’ 

“Do you think the Indians are up there now?” 

“Since General Wayne’s march North the In- 
dians have abandoned their villages and fled to the 
lakes. That is what McClellan and Kenton and 
all the spies report. I do not expect to find any 
Indians near Paint Creek, but I shall take a larger 
company than I have ever had out, and I think we 
need not be afraid if we should meet Captain 
Johnny, or Tecumseh, or even Blue Jacket. But 
Wayne will cut out their work for them, and they 
will find out they have to fight a different man 
from anyone they have yet raised the hatchet 
against in battle.” 

“Who will be your deputy?” 

“I shall have three : John and Nat Beasley and 
Peter Lee. Duncan McArthur is going as a chain 


184 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

man, and if we should have a scrimmage he will 
be worth six ordinary men.” 

“How long will you be gone?” 

“A full month, at least. We shall have consid- 
erable baggage, but we must not take horses to 
carry it, for if any Indians should be roaming 
the woods our tracks would easily be discovered. 
Instead we will go by canoes up the Ohio, and 
then up the Scioto till we reach Paint. ’ ’ 

We found some difficulty in getting enough 
canoes, so a part of the company marched along 
the margin of the river, and part paddled up the 
streams. When we came to the large creeks the 
canoes carried all across. There were four gangs 
of seven men each, and two extra guards. The 
gangs took turns in paddling and walking. In 
each gang were one hunter, one rear guard, the 
surveyor, two chain carriers and the rodman who 
carried the rod or target, besides one man who 
cut wood for the fire and did the cooking and other 
little jobs of the camp. 

It was October, mild and sunny, the most beau- 
tiful month of the year in southern Ohio. How 
can I describe the delight of those days of canoeing 
and marching, on that expedition which can never 
be forgotten while I live ! The hills from six hun- 


Pathfinding on the Scioto 185 

dred to a thousand feet high on each side of the 
river, forest-crowned, were now like a succession 
of brilliant pictures. Among the masses of dark 
green oaks the maples lifted their crimson torches, 
and hickories and poplars waved their yellow 
banners, while here and there a gum tree or a blue 
ash made a rich purple effect. 

No human beings brought discord to those 
peaceful groves. Green paroquets hung in the 
trees and many birds, gathering for their passage 
South, filled the woods with music. Frequently 
a deer lifted his head from the stream as his 
morning drink was disturbed by our paddles or 
our laughter, and darted gracefully back to the 
covert of the hills. 

The afternoon sun was hot, but a breeze from 
the water tempered the air, and the mornings and 
evenings with their flaming sunrise and sunset 
clouds and the purple afterglow as the dusk deep- 
ened into night, were as a day in Paradise. 

It took us nearly a week to reach Paint Creek. 
Here after carefully concealing our canoes, we 
lighted our camp fires on a wide prairie, and the 
sight of that lovely valley was enough to repay us 
for the labor of our long journey. 

Early the next morning we began our work, sur- 


1 86 


Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

veying the rich bottom lands for some distance on 
the west bank of the Scioto. I was attached to 
Massie’s gang but the flagman of another gang 
was taken sick and the surveyor requested Massie 
to let me take his place, so on the third day this 
transfer was made. 

Evening was drawing on, and the chill of the 
October night, with a north wind that had a touch 
of frost, gave a spur to my appetite as we ap- 
proached camp after a hard day’s work. Jack and 
another scout had reported all safe and large fires 
were blazing, turkeys already dressed were hang- 
ing to stakes slowly roasting, while down by the 
water the most skilful butchers were cutting up a 
fat bear. 

1 1 Morris, make yourself useful. Take this fat 
to the fire and melt it in the skillet. The boys like 
to dip their turkey meat in it.” 

“ There’s more than one skilletful, ’ ’ I replied, 
after looking at the leaves of fat. “ Jack ought to 
get a skin ready for it.” 

‘ ‘ Pete is doing that now. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ What a fine warm fur! Better than we got 
last spring, Jack.” 

4 ‘The fur is always thicker when the bear is 
fat.” 


Pathfinding on the Scioto 187 

“What are yon doing there ?” 

“Cleaning these hear paws,” Jack answered. 
“As I killed the hear I chose the feet for my spe- 
cial portion. I’ll give yon one for breakfast if yon 
never tasted them. I roast them in the hot ashes.” 

Snpper was soon ready and a merry crew we 
were, sitting aronnd the fires, eating the tooth- 
some game with the hearty appetite of those who 
were strong and well, and had earned a good 
snpper by hard work. 

“Have yon got the bines, McArthur?” Jack 
asked, slapping the big scont on the shonlder, as 
he sat on a stick of fire wood, soberly looking into 
the camp-fire. 

“Dune. pnt so mnch bear meat nnder his ribs 
that he is as dull as a Pawnee.” 

“Try a wrastle. That will set yonr blood to 
running and you’ll sleep easier.” 

“Not tonight, Jack. I am busy.” 

“You don’t look it.” 

“Well, I am in a way,” McArthur said with a 
pleasant laugh. “I want to think out something 
that’s started in my mind.” 

“I’ll try a fall with yon, Jack,” said Peter Lee. 

While they were tumbling about on the soft sod 
of the prairie with a ring of eager spectators 


1 88 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

around them, Duncan came and sat by me on a 
log, where I was copying some of the field notes 
by the firelight. 

“Morris, I wish I could figure as easy as you 
can. You have had better advantages than I and 
you have improved them well. All my life I have 
lived on the frontier, and I never saw the inside 
of a schoolhouse more than one term. ,, 

“You are doing fine work as a scout. You pro- 
tect the settlements along the river and everyone 
thinks much of you.” 

“But I see much greater things before me and I 
want to be fit for them. I want to he a man like 
Massie, with the knowledge that will fit me to do 
many kinds of work and to he ready for better 
positions than a chainman or a scout. 

“I have had a vision today. I climbed up on 
one of those Western hills and I had a grand view 
of this rich valley. It would be fine to have a 
house up there sometime when this valley is set- 
tled up; and I am going to buy a big farm of 
Massie. But I saw other things than land and my 
head is bursting with them.” 

“What did you see, Duncan?” I asked, prompt- 
ing him to go on talking. 

“As sure as my name is McArthur I saw money, 


Pathfinding on the Scioto 189 

wealth, power, high office and fame all before me, 
all waiting for me to take them. If I can get a 
good deal of this land, I’ll have all the rest. It’s 
in me, Morris, and I will use the capacity I have 
and grow by doing it as other men do. I see the 
way to begin. I must be a surveyor like Massie 
and then I’ll get the land.” 

Something Israel Donalson had read me out of 
his big Bible came into my head, and I could not 
help saying: 

“ Duncan, I am afraid the devil took you up on 
that high mountain and tempted you with your 
vision. ’ ’ 

“Mebbe he did have some hand in it, but I’m 
not going to sell myself to the devil. I can be 
honest in my ambition. To come to the point, I 
want to ask you to teach me what you know and 

General Duncan McArthur was born Jan. 14, 1772, in Dutchess 
County, New York. His parents were Scotch. In 1780 his father 
moved to the frontier in Pennsylvania and as he was a poor man, 
Duncan was sent out to work for the neighbors while he was 
still a boy. He also drove pack horses over the mountains. 

In 1790, he joined General Harmar’s army in its unfortunate 
expedition against the Indians. In 1792, he went to Maysville, 
Kentucky, and was employed in the Salt Works in Western Vir- 
ginia, having as a companion Joseph Vance, afterwards Governor 
of Ohio. In 1793 and in 1794, he served as a spy, or ranger, on 
the Ohio river, guarding the settlements and later the mail packet. 
In 1796, he joined the party that founded Chillicothe, and worked 


190 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

I’ll pay you fairly for it in skins this winter and, 
more than that, I’ll help you after awhile.” 

“Oh Dune., I’ll teach you all I can, hut it’s very 
little I know and I don’t want any pay for it.” 

“You give me the start and I’ll go ahead; and 
I mean what I say, lad. We are going to have a 
state here and I shall he at the front, doing things. 
They can’t keep me down, and when I’m in the 
Legislature or in Congress there will be ways to 
help you.” 

“Where do you want to begin,” I asked, for I 
did not see any use in hanging fire by more talk 
about it. 

“I know the three R’s but I’m not very swift in 
them. This finding out the number of acres in a 
crooked piece of land by drawing some lines across 
it is more than I can see into just now.” 


for Massie for a year as a deputy surveyor, receiving in payment 
one inlot and one outlot and one hundred and fifty acres of land, 
the property known by the name of Fruit Hill, on which he lived 
the remainder of his life. He became one of the wealthiest men 
in Ross County and built an elegant stone mansion at Fruit Hill. 

A Major-General of Militia, on the breaking out of the war of 
1812, he enlisted as a private, but was soon promoted to be a 
Colonel, and then a Brigadier-General, and served with distinc- 
tion throughout the war. In 1822 he was elected to Congress and 
served two terms. In 1830 he was elected Governor of Ohio, one 
of the four distinguished men of Chillicothe who have been hon- 
ored by election to this office. He died in 1839. 


Pathfinding on the Scioto 191 

I laughed and began with the square, then 
divided it by a diagonal. This was simple, and 
my big pupil easily comprehended the measuring 
of these. From that I went on with the principles 
of mensuration. It took a good many evenings, 
but he was quick to perceive the principles, and 
had a good memory. He was free and shrewd in 
asking questions and in making observations of 
our daily work. He also thought over what he 
had learned, and deduced conclusions from it by 
his own shrewd mother wit. Before the month 
was out the chain-bearer was competent to set the 
compass, and to take notes and to compute small 
areas. 

On that evening of our first lesson Massie had 
been making entries by another fire, but when the 
fire was beginning to die down he closed his book 
and looking up at the stars said : 

“It’s nearly eight o’clock, boys, for there are 
the Pleiades above that high mountain over the 
river. It’s time to go to bed.” 

Large logs were thrown on the fires; then the 
whole company ranged themselves in single file 
and followed Nat Beasley, stepping backward 
until we reached a grove of sycamores a quarter 
of a mile from the fires. Each mess, or gang, of 


192 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

men slept together. Two blankets were laid on 
the ground, and the other five, pinned together 
with thorns of the honey locust, were drawn over 
us. 

Massie lay with his head to the north. I was 
next to him and then came Jack Giddings. The 
four other men lay with their heads to the south, 
their feet coming to our waists. As we lay spoon 
fashion, with the blankets doubled over us, we 
were always warm even in the coldest nights of 
winter. 

Long before daylight I was awake, but Massie 
would not let me stir. When it grew light enough 
to tell a man from a hush or a log, he laid his hand 
on Jack. He and another scout crawled out on 
opposite sides and away a hundred yards, then 
rose and circled around our sleeping place and 
scouted all around the fires. After a little Jack 
called : 

“All safe, Nat.” 

“Get up, hoys, and start the fires.” 

In an instant the camp was the scene of joyous 
alacrity. The fires were replenished, and slices 
of meat impaled on sticks surrounded each bed of 
coals like a picket fence. The last of our cornmeal 
made into cakes was baking on slabs of bark. 


Pathfinding on the Scioto 193 

Meanwhile some of us went down to the river and 
had a good hath. Jack did not forget his hear 
paws, and I think I never put a sweeter morsel of 
meat into my mouth. It was more delicious by 
far than beaver’s tail. 


CHAPTER XV 


DESERTED IN THE MIRE 

At the end of a week we moved onr camp up 
Paint Creek and prepared to make a survey of all 
the best lands up to the forks. Before we began 
this I asked Massie to give me my old position. 

“Why so, Morris? You are not one to object 
to hard work or to get into quarrels. What is the 
trouble V* 

“I would rather not say anything,” I replied, 
and Massie, after satisfying himself that I was in 
earnest, said he would arrange it if he could, al- 
though Wade was not well enough to resume his 
work. Probably he had his own suspicions of my 
reason for wanting a change, as the rapid work 
of that gang was exciting remark. He made an 
examination of the surveys we had finished and 
found such loose work that he was obliged to re- 
prove the deputy and require him to correct his 
mistakes. 

That evening Mr. Massie explained to us the 
194 


Deserted in the Mire 195 

system of surveying and dividing the land which 
had been adopted by the United States. 

It was devised by Thomas Hutchins, the Geog- 
rapher of the United States, who in 1786 set his 
Jacob’s Staff on the Pennsylvania boundary, and 
ran a line west for forty-two miles. On this line 
corners were established six miles apart, and 
seven meridian lines were run south to the Ohio 
river. These seven ranges were divided into 
townships six miles square and sub-divided into 
sections one mile square.* 

“That is a fine plan,” continued Massie, and 
as it is so simple and convenient I have no doubt 
all the lands of the West that belong to Congress 
will be surveyed in that way. But the system of 
Kentucky is no system at all. Any authorized 
surveyor can go where he pleases, begin his survey 
at any point, and run his lines in any direction 
without any base line or meridians. If he is hasty 
and inaccurate, does not mark his corners well, 
does not measure his angles truly or his distances 
correctly and honestly, and does not give a clear 

*If anyone will look at a section map of the states west of 
Ohio he will see that this system of surveying devised by Thomas 
Hutchins has been adopted in all the surveys of the United States 
since the land in Indiana was laid out for settlement. The 
state of Maine was also surveyed in the same way. 


196 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

description, other surveys afterward will conflict 
with them, and lawsuits will he the largest crops 
grown out of these lands. 

“I do not want the accuracy of my surveys to 
he questioned, and therefore I am careful to meas- 
ure the angles truly and to run the lines hy them 
and to get the distances exact, and I must insist 
on every man who works with me being as careful 
as I am. There is too much looseness and dis- 
honesty in this whole western land business. 
There is so much speculation about it that it is 
bound to breed trouble and inquiry. I shall never 
shrink from an examination of my work whenever 
an investigation is made. The better it is known 
in what manner my business is conducted, the 
more perfect satisfaction there will be with all I 
have done.” 

There was a good deal of talk by the camp-fire 
that night about the careless surveys made in Ken- 
tucky, and the way many of the old pioneers had 
been cheated out of their land and improvements, 
because their entries were so defective that they 
could not clearly establish their claim. Many 
stories of this kind were told, some of them about 
Simon Kenton’s losses from this cause. The effect 
of the conversation was excellent and after that 


Deserted in the Mire 


197 

there was no more occasion for complaint about 
errors or hasty work. 

However, there seemed to me to he some ill-will 
against me in the gang I had left, and especially 
on the part of the deputy surveyor. At first I 
chided myself for having such a suspicion of the 
man, and tried to banish the feeling as unworthy, 
and to convince myself that it was imaginary on 
my part. Still, I could not throw overboard the 
unwelcome notion. 

One day in crossing a sluggish creek a little 
while after my gang had gone over to the camp for 
dinner, I found myself in a soft spot and, although 
I tried to pull out, all my efforts were futile and I 
was slowly sinking to my waist. At first I did not 
realize that I was in danger, but in less than five 
minutes I was calling for help at the top of my 
voice. When I knew that my friends were beyond 
hearing, I was about as thoroughly scared as I 
ever was in my life. 

I imagined everything, the slow sinking in the 
mud, death staring me in the face until I was suffo- 
cated, or being found by an Indian and tortured 
or tomahawked, while I could do nothing to save 
myself. Surely the men would miss me soon and 


198 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

come back and pull me out. I shouted again loud- 
er than before. 

How they would laugh at me and I should lose 
half a day, for I should have to wash out my 
leggings and dry them while I lay by the fire 
wrapped in a blanket. 

Far off in the valley I saw this deputy crossing 
the creek and shouted again as loudly as I could. 
He stopped and looked my way as I repeated my 
call for help. Then he deliberately went on 
towards the camp, and although I called him by 
name and shouted my own name he did not turn 
nor show that he heard. 

I knew that he did both see and hear me, for I 
saw him start as if he would come my way, before 
he coolly deserted me in my misfortune and dan- 
ger. I was disheartened and then very angry, 
and I began again to use every effort to save my 
life until Jack and McArthur and Massie came to 
search for me. The only thing I could think of 
or do was to lean over with outstretched arms, so 
that my body might give as much resistance as 
possible to the treacherous mire that was slowly 
sucking me down. 

I was not mistaken in thinking that as soon as I 
was missed my friends would search for me. Jack 


Deserted in the Mire 199 

found me out and in five minutes had the whole 
gang of six working for my relief. McArthur cut 
some poplar saplings on the margin of the stream 
and made a platform on which they worked. It 
seemed as if my legs were being pulled out of their 
sockets, but the hold of the mire gradually yielded 
and I was drawn out. 

“I feel as if I was pulled out into a ribbon,” I 
said as the last foot came up from its miry bed. 

“If Nat’s chain goes to pieces Dune can reel 
you up for a tape line,” said Jack. 

“I am limp enough for it, just now, but when I 
get some chunks of that tough old bear you 
brought in yesterday I think they will stiffen me 
up again.” 

My clothes were not only wet and nasty but 
ripped and torn, and it took me all the rest of that 
day to get them in order again. That night the 
deputy coolly denied that he had seen or heard 
me, but most of the company thought he was lying. 

After a day or two I made up my mind to over- 
look the man’s cruelty and hatred. I could not 
believe that he would have left me to perish. He 
probably thought that I was in no great danger 
and that my gang would hear me and pull me out. 

After that week we worked up Paint to the 


200 


Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

north fork and up that branch several miles. All 
went well, for the weather was good and we had 
seen no traces of the redskins. One day Massie 
sent me over to this unfriendly deputy to borrow 
some paper for field notes. I saw him at a distance 
from his men, setting his transit, and behind him 
an Indian stealing from tree to tree to kill the 
surveyor, who was unconscious of any danger. 

I had not brought my gun, and my only weapon 
was my tomahawk, but I never for a moment 
thought of letting the churlish man perish un- 
aided. Bounding forward I shouted : 

6 i Indian !” 

The deputy started and treed. 

“ Shout to Bill and Dan up the hill to bring 
their guns, and then run back and warn Massie.’ ’ 

I waited three minutes until the two men were 
near enough to save him, and then as the Indian 
fled I ran back to our line. At once Massie took 
Jack and McArthur and started to the surveyor’s 
relief, leaving me to collect all the gangs at the 
camp. We threw out scouts in all directions but 
no more Indians were seen nor traces of their 
presence found. Three hours later Massie and the 
others returned, having chased the red man hard 
for several miles until he outran them and escaped. 


Deserted in the Mire 


201 


They followed his trail still further and were sat- 
isfied he was a solitary hunter and so frightened 
that he would not dare to return. 

We remained still longer, making all the sur- 
veys necessary to satisfy the warrants in hand and 
exploring all the best lands. Our immunity made 
us hold, and Massie took us on an exploring tour 
over the Pickaway plains. Here we found the 
site of many Indian villages; the place where 
Lord Dunmore had camped in the fall of 1774 and 
made a treaty with the Indians; and on the west 
bank of the river Logan’s village and cabin, and 
the great elm* on Congo creek where Logan made 
his famous speech in a talk with Captain Gibson. 
Of course, at that time I did not know anything 
about Logan’s speech, but that elm tree would 
then have created admiration in any man’s mind, 
as it does now. 

The most wonderful discovery we made was the 
remarkable system of ancient mounds on the spot 
where Circleville now stands. 

That was a delightful tour of discovery, in 
which there was nothing to mar our enjoyment. 

*This magnificent tree, still standing, is called Logan’s Elm, or 
Treaty Elm. It is on the Boggs farm, six miles south of Circle- 
ville. Its dimensions are: girth, 20 feet; height, 79 feet; spread 
of branches, diameter, 120 feet. 


202 


Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

The deputy seemed to be ashamed of his spirit 
and conduct, ana tor the rest of our trip he and I 
were good friends. When we returned to Paint 
Creek, we found our canoes where we had hidden 
them, and walking and canoeing by turns, we 
leisurely made our way home. 

I shall not attempt to describe all the surveying 
tours we made, although each one had its own 
special adventures. 

Right in the midst of a bitterly cold season the 
next winter I was out with Massie on the Little 
Miami. Probably the bitter weather was our best 
protection. We had a large company and all con- 
fidence in our leader, so we went with him cheer- 
fully. We explored all the feeders east of the 
Little Miami, and then went over to the head- 
waters of Paint Creek, and in this way we gained 
a wide and correct knowledge of the lands in the 
lower part of the Virginia Military District. 

WThen we returned home they told us the story 
of the Edgington boys going to the Saltlick to 
hunt and that Asahel had been killed by the In- 
dians there. 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE KOTTEN LOG 

John and Asahel Edgington were among our 
best hunters and no one dreamed of disaster be- 
falling them, especially as they were joined by 
Neil Washburn on this trip. They went up to the 
deerlick, near which is now the famous Treber 
Tavern, where so many of the great men of the 
West have eaten Mother Treber ’s biscuits and 
drunk her good coffee as they traveled the stage 
road from Maysville to Pittsburg on the line of 
Zane’s trace. 

There was no cabin there in those days of 1793, 
but the large elm stood near the spring whose 
brackish waters drew the deer to taste the salty 
deposit along the margin of the stream. The three 
men were successful and killed two bears and sev- 
eral deer. They skinned the deer and cut off the 
hams, but the bears they fleeced, that is, they sim- 
ply cut the meat loose from the bones and wrapped 
it up in the skins. As they were ten miles from 
Manchester they decided to hang up their meat 
203 


204 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

and skins beyond the reach of the wolves and go 
back for their horses. 

The next morning, early, they started out, each 
leading a pack horse. When they came near their 
camp they did not take any precaution to look for 
Indian signs, but marched straight over the hill, 
crossed the deerlick branch and prepared to make 
a fire not far from the spring on the wide bottom. 
Suddenly some Indians lying in ambush rose up 
on the ridge beyond and fired upon them, killing 
Asahel instantly. John was unhurt and fled up 
the hill until he reached a tree, where he stopped 
a moment to see what was going to be done next. 
Two Indians were in pursuit of him, and he raised 
his gun but could not discharge it, as the powder 
in the pan got wet when he dashed through the 
creek. 

Five other Indians came along the ridge and 
joined in the pursuit, but John soon proved him- 
self the match of Indians in a race, and gradually 
they dropped off one by one until a single runner 
was after him. This was the blood-thirsty Captain 
Johnny, a well known Shawnee chief, who had a 
small band under his command. A few years later 
he met John McDonald and talked to him about 
that race. He laughed as he said : 


The Rotten Log 205 

“The white man who run away was a smart 
man. That white man run and I run, he run and 
run, at last the white man run clear off from me.’’ 

John got home safe and so did Neil, hut one of 
our number was dead and three of our horses 
were gone. That was a sad time for all of us. 
John took a strong company out the next day and 
found his brother’s body beheaded, and the head 
placed in a cedar tree. They dug a grave, and 
Asahel was buried where he fell. 

There was an addition to this affair a few years 
later. After the Greenville treaty, when the In- 
dians came back to hunt in their old resorts three 
men came down to the station. Some of the young 
men gave them firewater and got them to talking 
about the fights between the white men and the 
red men. Finally one of them described the kill- 
ing of Asahel Edgington and boasted about being 
there and taking part in it. The Indians re- 
mained a day or two and at last started off, going 
west. When they came to Island Creek, two miles 
above, as they stepped on the log footbridge, out 
from the dense timber by the side of the creek 
came a crash of rifle shots. The Indians fell into 
the creek and their dead bodies were washed out 
into the Ohio. It was known that John had heard 


206 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

the story, but no one cared to talk about this late 
tragedy by which Asahel’s death was avenged, so 
the murder was never investigated and was finally 
forgotten. 

There were a number of such murders com- 
mitted after peace was established, merely to sat- 
isfy feelings of personal revenge. The treaty of 
Wayne with the Indians wiped out all the old 
scores on both sides. The hatchet was to be buried 
so deeply that no one could dig it up again. After 
that any outrages against persons or property 
were to be investigated by the proper officers, and 
punished according to the laws of the United 
States. All such acts of violence were injurious 
to the white men as well as to the Indians. They 
not only exasperated the barbarous savages, but 
they also perpetuated the lawless spirit among 
the rougher class of bordermen, which still sur- 
vives in the West and South and breaks out into 
barbarous deeds under the name of Lynch law. 
No act of punitive justice, however necessary or 
worthy it may appear, can he right, if it is begun 
and carried out without the sanction of the law of 
the land, duly administered by the proper offi- 
cers. 

It would weary you to read of all our surveying 


207 


The Rotten Log 

expeditions, but let me tell you, little Morris, of 
one which was broken up when the Indians gave 
us a long hard run to the station. 

It was after Wayne’s great battle and we be- 
lieved all the Indians in the North were afraid to 
do any more mischief. Late in November of 1794, 
Massie resolved to make a complete survey of the 
best lands in the western part of the Virginia Mili- 
tary District. He planned to take a large company 
and to have his four gangs at work. The same 
deputies were employed, and Jack Giddings and 
John McDonald were two of our scouts. McDon- 
ald had been with Wayne and he had gained new 
experiences and had many fresh stories to tell 
us. # 

We went up the Little Miami as far as Tod’s 
Creek, set up our compasses and surveyed all the 
land to its sources. 

Going back to the river we surveyed the lands 

*Colonel John McDonald was a son of William McDonald, a 
Highlander, who moved to Mingo Bottom, on the Ohio side, in 
1780. John was born in 1775, in Northumberland County, Pa. 
When a young man he joined Simon Kenton’s company, and re- 
ceived instruction in woodcraft from him. In 1792 he joined 
Massie’s settlement and was engaged in many of his dangerous 
expeditions. He was boatman, hunter, ranger, and surveyor. In 
1794, he joined Wayne’s army as a scout, being one of Captain 
Kibby’s company. 

He was not one of the tall pioneers, but short in height, heavily 


208 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

above until we reached the Indian village of Old 
Chillicothe. The fires were out in the villages and 
the forests were deserted except by wild animals. 
Game was plenty, and although our meal and flour 
were exhausted, we were well supplied by the 
hunters. 

Having finished our work along the Little 
Miami, we went up Massie’s Creek and Caesar’s 
Creek, east of Old Chillicothe, until we came to the 
upper waters of Rattlesnake fork of Paint Creek. 
The ground was now covered with snow from six 
to ten inches deep, and as our tracks could not be 
concealed, the scouts redoubled their vigilance in 
order to guard against a surprise by the Indians. 

This was a region we had not visited, and we 
went on down the slopes that give rise to Rattle- 
snake with our senses keenly alert to make dis- 
coveries of new scenes. But it was Mr. Massie 
himself who first sighted a notable mark, and it 
was an unwelcome one. It was only the track of 
an Indian’s moccasin in the snow, but to our com- 
pany, more than seventy-five miles from our sta- 

set, a man of iron muscles, capable of great exertions and en- 
durance. He served in the war of 1812, as paymaster and quarter- 
master, with the rank of colonel. He was the author of a valu- 
able book of biographical sketches, published in 1838. He died 
at his home, Poplar Ridge, Ross County, Sept. 11, 1853. 


The Rotten Log 209 

tion, it might mean disaster unless he took prompt 
measures for safety. 

He instantly sent Jack and McDonald to find 
the Indian camp, and to bring him all the informa- 
tion they could obtain as to the size and business 
of the band, while he collected all the company and 
made preparation for attack or retreat as should 
appear better. 

McDonald reported there were ten wigwams 
and that there was noise enough in the camp for a 
large company. A fight with them would be very 
hazardous, and would be a violation of General 
Wayne’s orders to all the settlers to abstain from 
making forays into the Indian country, and from 
interfering with his negotiations with the Indians 
for peace. 

Therefore we abandoned the survey, and after a 
hasty supper we made a rapid retreat due south, 
keeping it up till midnight. 

After resting a few hours we rose before day- 
light, and taking time only to eat a hasty meal, 
were off again. By noon we were dog-weary, and 
ready to stop long enough to make a fire and cook 
a good dinner. We felt pretty safe for we had cov- 
ered over thirty miles. Soon after we started we 
crossed a trail going southeast, which indicated 


210 


Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

four horses and eight or ten men on foot. A few 
miles further we struck their trail again leading 
south, and concluded as they did not know we were 
behind them that we would follow it. 

We saw nothing of them, hut when night came 
and we thought of camping, we almost ran into 
their camp. Our situation was now a very critical 
one as we were still a full day’s march from the 
station. These Indians would discover our trail 
in the morning and giving chase to us, would at- 
tack or ambuscade us. If we must fight them it 
would be far better for us to choose our own time 
and place. For this reason the majority of the 
company decided to make an attack at daylight. 

McDonald and Jack were detailed to watch the 
camp and by Massie’s permission I went with 
them. The Indians were off their guard, singing 
and talking while their supper was cooking. I 
found the bell-horse some distance away and cut 
the bell strap. Then we caught all the horses and 
tied them up near our camp. 

Massie approved what we had done and then 
told McDonald he was sure it was a mistake to de- 
fer the attack. He was positive the first band of 
Indians were on our trail and would come up with 
us in the night. Then we should be between two 



"I FOUND THE BELL-HORSE SOME DISTANCE AWAY AND CUT THE 

BELL STRAP” 













































































































21 1 


The Rotten Log 

fires and should all be slain or captured. We must 
deliver our attack and scatter this hand and im- 
mediately resume our retreat. 

“It is all true. We can neither remain here in 
safety nor hope to escape the combined company 
of these two bands tomorrow,’ ’ was McDonald’s 
reply. 

The day had been warm enough to melt the snow, 
but by this time it was again frozen and the crust 
made it almost impossible to advance without a 
noise that would betray us. McDonald took the 
lead and we followed single file, stepping in his 
tracks, and using our wiping sticks to steady our 
steps. 

When we were close enough for a volley and a 
rush on the camp we discovered a deep gully be- 
tween us and it, and we knew we could not get 
through that without making a good deal of noise. 
Mr. Massie found a crossing on a fallen tree that 
spanned the hollow and passed over. My turn 
came and I crept along. Nat Beasley and Peter 
Lee were behind me, and then some others came on, 
too many at once, for the old rotten log without 
warning broke into two parts and with a crash fell 
into the yawning abyss. 

I went down with the rest, for although I was 


212 


Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

near the end and gave a jump I lost my balance, 
and rolled down the slope, landing on Nat Beas- 
ley^ stomach and knocking the breath out of him. 

The crash startled the Indians, who, up to that 
instant, were unconscious of danger. Massie called 
out “Fire!” and the men discharged their rifles. 
No Indians were killed as far as we could discover, 
although we found blood in their tracks. They 
fled and we captured their camp with their arms 
and ammunition and clothing, making considerable 
baggage, which we at once loaded up on the four 
horses. In a very short time we started off, and as 
rapidly as possible continued our retreat without 
stopping until daylight, when we took a short rest 
and had breakfast. 

McDonald clapped his hand on my shoulder and 
asked : 

“Was it you who broke our bridge down?” 

“I didn’t do that for I was at the end. It was 
Peter Lee. He was in the middle, and if he had 
not eaten such a big chunk of meat it wouldn’t 
have broken. There was too much weight on it by 
two pounds. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Morris is getting even with you, Pete, for tell - 
ing that story on him about trying to shake down 
a coon and shaking himself out of the tree. ’ ’ 


213 


The Rotten Log 

“Mebbe ’twas my supper broke the log but I 
reckon ’twas a good thing; for it made such a 
thundering noise it skeert the redskins worse than 
McDonald ’s yell. I don ’t think they have stopped 
running yet. ’ ’ 

“Let us not drop our caution,’ ’ said Massie. “In 
my opinion if they are running it is after us, and I 
shall not feel safe until I get behind our stockade. 
Now, boys, let’s be up and on our way, and every- 
one step lively.” 

Events proved that he was right in his opinion. 
When about midnight we were near Manchester, 
Peter discovered that a bag containing some of the 
Indian plunder had fallen off the horse he was rid- 
ing, but of course no one returned for it then. In 
the afternoon Peter and Jack took fresh horses and 
went back on the trail to find the bag. It was an 
hour and a half before they came to it, near the top 
of a hill. After picking it up, they rode on to the 
summit and found there the trace of a large camp 
of Indians, the ashes of their fire still warm. Had 
the red men followed our trail a hundred yards 
down that hill, they would have discovered the bag 
and waited in ambush for someone to return for it. 
That would have been the last day for Jack and 
Peter. They both realized how narrow their es- 


214 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

cape was, and Peter added as he told ns abont it : 

“ After this I will believe every story of the 
devilish ingenuity of the Indians in following a 
trail and going all lengths to have their revenge. 
I don’t feel safe yet. When I go out of the cabin I 
ketch myself listening for a volley of their guns. ’ ’ 

Of course, we were deeply disappointed in hav- 
ing our work interrupted ; but Massie thought the 
Indians would not remain long and that we could 
try again before the winter was over. We had a 
few weeks now of quiet home life. I went to chop- 
ping and clearing my land and Tom came over and 
spent two weeks with me, helping me roll up the 
logs. Then Susie and I went over to see the Ander- 
sons, and while she was spinning with Mrs. Ander- 
son we two kept our flails flying on the barn floor 
until the small stack of wheat was threshed. 

When we went home again I spent my evenings 
in study, having borrowed some hooks of James 
Finley, the preacher’s son. I was glad to see that 
Susie took an interest in reading and study, and 
had her share of that same ambitious spirit which 
I felt in my own breast. We had no candles and 
needed none, for the fire in the big fireplace lighted 
every corner of our one-roomed cabin. 

But often Susie would put up her hook, throw 


215 


The Rotten Log 

her three-legged stool into the corner, and draw 
ont her big wheel and begin to spin. She liked to 
pnt her peg in the spokes and set her wheel to fly- 
ing, and the hum that rose reminded me of the 
moaning of the distant wind in the forest. Then I 
would look up from my book and watch her step 
back three steps, holding the long thread up, and 
then glide forward to let it wind on the flying spin- 
dle. Although her dress was a plain dark-colored 
linsey-woolsey, to my mind she looked more grace- 
ful and handsome than the elegantly dressed 
maidens of this day, as they move about in the 
measures of a cotillon. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE FIGHT IN THE BEAK’S DEN 

Nathaniel Massie was a man whose ability and 
leadership was recognized in any circle of men in 
which he found himself. Before he became a sur- 
veyor he had been a partner of General James 
Wilkinson, in manufacturing and shipping salt 
from Virginia to the settlements on the lower Ohio. 
It was not difficult, therefore, for him to keep him- 
self posted as to the progress of the war with the 
Indians, and the ensuing negotiations which finally 
resulted in the treaty of peace with them at Green- 
ville. He had also ascertained fully the intentions 
of the government to put an end to the harassing 
and ravaging of the settlements by the Indians. 

Knowing that the Indians were secretly nego- 
tiating with General Wayne, Massie concluded that 
there would be little danger of being interrupted 
by them in surveying along the Scioto. He wished 
to complete the surveys he had begun in the fall of 
1793, to go over the region on the head waters of 
216 


217 


The Fight in the Bear’s Den 

the streams that feed Paint Creek, and to finish 
the work that had been interrupted in December 
of 1794. 

However, he took with him a strong company, 
the same deputy surveyors and many of their as- 
sistants who had been with him in December. By 
this time he knew the men on whom he could rely 
for both hard and accurate work, and whose cour- 
age would not fail if there was a brush with the 
enemy. Jack Giddings and John McDonald were 
again employed as scouts and Duncan McArthur 
was in one of the surveyor's gangs. 

As soon as I learned of his plan I asked Mr. 
Massie for a place as one of the deputy surveyors. 

Massie looked at me in some astonishment and 
seemed inclined to laugh at my vaulting ambition. 

“You are not a regular surveyor, are you, my 
lad ? When were you sworn in and licensed 1 ' 9 

“I will go down to Louisville at once and have 
Colonel Anderson examine me and swear me in." 

“But you have no instruments. Where will you 
get a Jacob's Staff and chain!" 

“I know where I can hire one for the trip in 
Kentucky. And if I make enough money this year 
I shall buy me a good compass." 

“Then you will set up for a surveyor and cut 


2l8 


Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

into my business. And McArthur is another rival 
in the trade. Verily, I believe in helping such 
smart young fellows, I am robbing myself.’ ’ 

4 4 There will soon be more work to be done than 
all the surveyors here can do. When those one 
hundred thousand people, that you talk about, 
move into Ohio, we can all get rich surveying their 
farms for them.” 

4 4 You are stopping my mouth with my own argu- 
ments, Morris. You will not be a boy much longer. 
How old are you now?” 

44 1 am seventeen, sir.” 

4 4 You know enough and have had sufficient ex- 
perience to have the place, but yet it is not best for 
me to put you in charge of a gang. ’ 9 

My spirits fell considerably, as Massie said this, 
but he continued: 

44 I will tell you my reason frankly and also that 
I wish I could do as you request. It is not because 
you would not do the surveying well, but to place as 
young a person as you at the head of a gang would 
bring discord into the company. The men of the 
gang would not like to take orders from a boy, as 
they would call you, and the other deputies would 
resent being placed on an equality with you. These 
western men are very independent in their feel- 


219 


The Fight in the Bear’s Den 

ings, and take offense very easily. Anything like 
an infringement of their rights, or privileges, or 
dignity, they are quick to perceive and to resent. 
I am obliged to regard that in organizing my com- 
panies and in exercising authority over them. 
There is a great deal in the way such matters are 
arranged and carried out. I am sure you under- 
stand this, Morris. * 7 

“Yes, I know it, Mr. Massie. It is wonderful, 
how you get these men to work for you, and the 
easy way you have of maintaining the necessary 
discipline by your personal influence over them.” 

“You have earned promotion and I will give it 
to you in another way. You are becoming valuable 
and necessary to me by your diligence in studying 
out all the details of this business. You shall help 
me at anything I put into your hands and a great 
deal of the mapping and computation I will leave 
to you. I will give you better wages than the last 
trip, and if you wish you can take your pay in land 
in a good location. 

I agreed readily to this proposition for it was 
not difficult to see that giving me a compass might 
make trouble in the company. Then Massie ’s busi- 
ness was growing so large and so complicated, that 
he needed someone to assist him in his writing, and 


220 


Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

to help him keep all these tangled affairs straight. 

When we started, abont the first of March, there 
was good weather and a prospect of an early 
spring. The warmth brought the bears out of their 
winter sleeping places and gave us a good deal of 
sport as well as plenty of meat. 

On the upper waters of Brush Creek, where we 
stopped for a few days to survey, Jack told me he 
had found a bear’s stepping place a quarter of a 
mile below the camp. 

‘ i Get Massie to let you off for an hour or two in 
the morning and you will have some fun, and if 
you kill the bear you can have the pelt . 9 7 

In the early spring the bears wake up, and, be- 
ing thirsty, come out of their holes or caves, and 
go down to the nearest water for a drink. If the 
ground is soft they step in their tracks when they 
return, and these get deeper every time, so are 
called the bear ’s stepping places. 

Massie gave his hearty consent to my joining 
the hunters that morning. We easily followed the 
steps of the bear up from the creek, and found they 
ended at the foot of a great oak tree, on which the 
claw marks showed that the beast had been out the 
day before. There was not a limb lower than 
forty feet and it was twenty feet still higher to the 


The Fight in the Bear’s Den 221 

broken limb where the bear entered the hollow 
trnnk. 

4 ‘How will yon get up, Jack?” 

“I conld skin np, bnt if the bear shonld take 
after me in a hnrry I might get a bad fall. It 
wouldn’t hurt the bear to fall bnt it would break 
my legs or may be my neck.” 

“We shall have to fell one of these younger 
trees,” said McDonald. “It will take half an 
hour to do that. We will tie the horse out of range 
of the fall, and go to work.” 

The axes were soon plying, and when McDonald 
and I had cut a third through on the farthest side, 
Jack took the ax and began on the other side. His 
regular and even cuts, and careful calculation, 
made the tree lodge in the crotch of the bear tree. 
We thought the jar of the collision would waken 
the beast and bring him out, but after a few min- 
utes Jack climbed up with a long pole. 

He tried to rouse the bear by poking it down into 
his nest, but could not reach the bottom, for the 
hollow was too deep. Mr. McDonald and I pre- 
pared a torch and I carried it up to J ack and held 
it while he fired it. Then when it was well ablaze 
Jack swung it around his head a few times, while 


222 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

I went down. I took np my gun and Jack dropped 
the torch down the hole. 

“Waked him up that time. He’s climbing out, 
growling like he was fighting mad. Are you ready 1 
If you miss him we’ll have- a savage fight with 
him.” 

Jack dropped from limb to limb and was nearly 
down when the bear crawled out, and stood there a 
moment to look for his enemies. 

“First shot, Morris; blaze away,” McDonald 
called out. My ball struck him in the side and 
ranged forward, piercing a vital part, and the bear 
came tumbling and crashing through the limbs of 
the smaller tree. Before he could rouse up to do 
any mischief a blow of the ax finished him. We 
loaded him onto the horse and I went off to my 
surveying duties. 

We did not remain long on Brush Creek but 
went north to Rocky Fork of Paint Creek, working 
down the stream. The days were mild and our 
survey went forward rapidly. I worked hard to 
keep pace with the men, copying out their hurried 
field notes and mapping out the surveys for each 
warrant. When this was completed Massie let me 
go on a hunt with Jack, for it was all the hunters 


The Fight in the Bear’s Den 223 

could do to supply the camp with meat from day 
to day. 

We secured two deer, and in following a third I 
was separated from my companion. When I had 
reached the feeding ground, I had to make a wide 
circuit, for the wind was carrying my scent straight 
to the deer. I crawled up a little branch, found my 
game within fair shot and killed it, a large buck. 
After bleeding it I drew it up into a beech tree out 
of reach of wolves, and started back to find Jack 
and the horse. 

In some manner I missed him and came out on 
Rocky Fork near Rapid Forge Mountain. Massie 
had spoken of the wonders of the narrow gorge, 
through which, for over two miles, Rocky Fork 
descends. As it was only the middle of the morn- 
ing, I determined to explore the region, and see 
these strange and beautiful places. I knew very 
well where I was, and that a walk of an hour and a 
half up stream would bring me to our camp. 

I found a narrow margin of gravel and stones, 
that had fallen from the rocks above at the foot of 
the precipitous cliffs, which are about ninety feet 
high. In several places the opposite cliffs were so 
close to each other that a tall tree would have made 
a bridge across the chasm. The high waters had 


224 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

worn them away in some places, where perhaps the 
rocks were softer, or the action of frost had split 
the stones, making dark recesses and dismal look- 
ing dens. Little streams came in from both sides 
through narrow defiles across which one might al- 
most jump. 

There were strange fountains of waters, some of 
which were salty to the taste, hut mixed with other 
mineral solutions. One bright green spring tasted 
and smelled like rotten eggs, and another flowing 
from a basin stained yellow had a strong iron 
flavor. Not knowing much about the secrets of na- 
ture, and having some of the superstition that was 
much more common then than now, I began to feel 
a bit afraid of I knew not what. Everything looked 
strange and uncanny, and I thought perhaps I 
was getting into the Devil’s workshop and might 
drink some poisonous compound he was brewing 
underneath, so I abstained from tasting any more 
of these untried waters. 

After awhile I came to the deep pool which is 
now called Mussett’s Hole. Here the walls of the 
high, overshadowing cliffs went straight down to 
the water’s edge, and the northern one made a 
sharp turn across the course of the stream, so that 
I seemed to be looking into an immense cistern of 


The Fight in the Bear’s Den 225 

unknown depth, where large fishes were darting 
about. In one place a few red cedar trees had 
taken root and there, around the spot, a hank had 
formed. 

At the upper end was a defile that gave easy ap- 
proach from both sides of the creek, and the water 
flowed noisily into the pool over a shallow rocky 
bed. Plainly here was an ancient Indian crossing- 
place and the path by which the deer came down to 
some of the saltlicks, for on looking about I found 
the ashes of camp-fires and the charred bones of 
many animals. 

As I went on I came to a large arched window 
in the rocky wall, through which poured a small 
stream forming a beautiful waterfall. I climbed 
up the steep rocks and framed by the opening saw 
a wild romantic glen, in whose sides were grottos 
and small caves, and beyond these a natural bridge 
of rock from cliff to cliff. 

In the entrance to one of these small caves a 
shining object on the floor caught my eye, and 
stooping over I picked up a rude awl set in a bone 
handle on which were the letters J. W. and a rude 
drawing of an eye. I studied over this implement 
of man ’s handicraft more than over the wonderful 
works of nature all about me. I remembered that 


226 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

Joshua had one similar to this, hut there was no 
carving of letters or symbols on the one he was 
using. Still the open eye, the symbol of eternal 
vigilance, seemed suited to his character, so I sus- 
pected that this might belong to my hermit friend. 
I wondered if he had a lodge in one of these caves 
and peered into them all, shouting his name, in the 
hope that I might find him. 

It would take many pages to describe all the new 
and curious things which I saw that morning, as 
well as those which I have since found in that most 
interesting locality. I made a torch and explored 
one large cavern; but other rooms opened from it, 
and a number of passages led off in various direc- 
tions, so I was afraid of becoming bewildered and 
getting lost in these underground rooms, and being 
unable to find my way out again. Therefore I did 
not attempt to enter several caves I discovered. As 
I wandered eastward I came to another branch and 
in the soft soil around a spring found the stepping 
places of a bear. These I traced up to the rocky 
slope and by careful examination followed the trail 
to the mouth of the large cave. 

After looking at the priming of my gun I stood 
inside the entrance and tried to make out as far as 
I could in the gloom of the dark cavern, its size and 


The Fight in the Bear’s Den 227 

what was in there. I could see very little and I 
imagined it was a large room for none of the walls 
were visible. I seemed to be looking into some 
abyss of infinite blackness. I was afraid to move 
forward lest I should fall into a deep hole and per- 
ish there of starvation or be devoured by wild 
beasts. Then came a noise of scratching and slip- 
ping at my left, as if some beast were scrambling 
down the rocky sides of the cave. 

At the very moment I backed out a big bear came 
into view. I instantly fired, and the shaggy brute 
fell on his side and lay still. The reverberation 
of the sound of my rifle was almost deafening and 
if there were other wild animals within they must 
have been awakened by the noise, so I stepped 
away and hastily reloaded. 

Again I entered, peering about with the intention 
of dragging the bear outside if he was dead, but 
had hardly touched him when there came a savage 
growl very close at my right, and I had only time 
to turn when a thin, ragged looking she bear rose 
on her hind feet to clasp me in a fatal embrace. I 
raised my gun and fired, but although badly hurt 
she was not disabled, and only the more enraged by 
her wound. As she rose with a growl and rushed 
upon me I clubbed my gun and struck her, but 


228 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

without much effect, for she gave me a blow with 
one of her great paws, knocking the gun from my 
hands and almost breaking my left arm. I jumped 
backwards, but she was as quick as I and crushed 
me in her great paws. I was like a baby in the 
grasp of a giant, the breath was squeezed out of me 
and if she had not relaxed her hold a little, I should 
never have seen the light of the sun again. 

I snatched my knife from its sheath, and as her 
grasp loosened thrust the knife into her open 
mouth giving it a turn that made her roar with pain 
and release me. This was my chance and I jumped 
backward, preparing for the next rush. She gave 
me a sweeping blow that tore my hunting shirt into 
rags and raked my left side into long wounds and 
deep scratches from shoulder to belt, while the 
blood began to pour out like water. I tried to 
avoid a second hug and slashed at her with my re- 
maining strength but could not reach a vital part. 
She was fighting for her life even as I was, and in 
every point she had the advantage. The loss of 
blood was weakening me, and I felt sure that in a 
short time she would knock me over and tear me to 
pieces. 

Although my case was so desperate I struggled 
on, nerving myself to greater efforts to disable her 


229 


The Fight in the Bear’s Den 

so that I could escape with my life. Then she rose 
again on her hind feet and fought with both paws 
at once. Throwing them around me and knocking 
the knife from my hand, she gave me another of 
her deadly embraces. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


I MEET AN OLD FKIEND 

Although my last hour, my last moments, seemed 
to have come, I did not lose my wits. In fact my 
brain was working with lightning rapidity and 
many things forgotten for years came now in 
throngs. I thought of Susie and my promise to 
my dead father to support the family, and here I 
was foolishly throwing my life away in a den of 
wild animals. 

The most persistent thought, however, was: 
“What will Massie and Mr. McDonald and Jack 
think of me!” and I determined that if I must die, 
I would die game. WTien the hear rushed on me 
that last time I threw up my arms to keep them 
free and grasped her shaggy throat with all my 
strength, choking her so effectually that she let go 
her hold on me and I jumped out of her reach. I 
should have been glad to rush out of the cave, hut 
in our tussle we had worked around near the en- 
trance so that my enemy was between me and lib- 
230 


I Meet an Old Friend 231 

erty, and, fiercely growling, stood ready for an- 
other rush. 

Though I could not find my gun in the dim light, 
my knife was near me and I seized it. The hear 
was watching and rose on her hind feet, hut at that 
instant there was a hlaze of light and the crash of a 
rifle at the entrance, and she tottered and fell on 
her side. 

“Keep away from her. She isn’t dead yet,” 
someone shouted. 

I searched the stony floor and being so for- 
tunate as to find my gun and powder horn, at once 
reloaded. Then I discovered the flint was gone, 
but as my pouch was still hanging to my belt an- 
other was soon in place. The bear was growling 
with rage and trying to scramble to her feet. I 
drew my trusty rifle to my shoulder, but before I 
touched the trigger, the same voice called out : 

“Be ye going to shoot, Morris!” 

“ Yes, I ’m on the trigger. Who are you I ’ 9 

“Shoot just behind the shoulder.” 

I stepped so close to my enemy that the blaze of 
the powder scorched her hair, but the shot finished 
her and her head dropped to the floor. Then I 
hurriedly stepped around her out into the light, 
for my strength was now failing. A tall, red- 


232 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

haired man, slender and wiry, clothed in hunter’s 
garb, was ramming down a bullet that had stuck in 
his rifle. 

“Josh!” I exclaimed. “Once more in the nick 
of time you have come to save my life.” 

“Ay, my lad, God brought me here in time to 
help ye again. But from the looks of ye thar wan’t 
much time to spare. The bar has pooty nigh raked # 
the insides out o’ ye. Here, hoy, ye lie down,” he 
said soothingly, as he caught me on the point of 
falling. 

“I feel very weak. I’ve lost some blood.” 

“Pints of it, I reckon. Lay there till I get ye 
some of my hitters.” 

From the pouch at his side, Josh drew a flask and 
put it to my mouth. The dose of hot, hitter stimu- 
lant almost strangled me, but the fiery liquid made 
my sluggish heart begin its work again, and I felt 
my strength coming hack to me. Then Josh 
rubbed some healing ointment on my wounds, cut 
off some strips of buckskin, and tied bandages 
around me that stopped the bleeding. Neither he 
nor I had any linen, for all our clothing was of 
buckskin. 

‘ 4 How did you find me, J osh ? ’ ’ 

“I hev watched yer surveying party frequent. 


I Meet an Old Friend 


233 


This morning I ketched on yer trail at the moun- 
tain an’ follered ye, fer I was fearsome ye might 
git lost in one of these big holes, an’ wander 
around in the inside of the earth till ye starved to 
death . 9 9 

“I would like to thank you, hut I don’t know 
how to do it as it ought to he said. This is the third 
time, you know . 9 9 

“ Never mind. I want no thanks, Morris, so say 
no more about it. How he ye feeling now?” 

“My head feels queer, so light and dizzy.” 

“Take another pull at the bitters. It’s made of 
hullsome yarbs with jest a little spirits in it.” 

I tried it again, hut it was hard to swallow and 
made me cough. However, I felt better, and said, 
“I must be going hack to camp. ” My friend 
would not consent to this. 

“Ye’re too weak for so long a tramp. I will 
carry word to the camp. Ye must hev those 
scratches hound up, and a new shirt to wear. 
Ye’re all rags now. We shall hev a change of 
weather in a few days, an ’ ye ’ll take cold in those 
wounds and die of newmony. I would make ye 
one, hut I had the had luck to lose my awl, and I 
can’t sew it up till I make a hone awl.” 

‘ ‘ I found one this morning which I thought was 


234 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

yours. It is marked J. W. and has an eye carved 
on it. ’ ’ 

1 i That ’s mine. Where is it V ’ 

“ It must have fallen out of my belt when the 
bear was hugging me in the cave. If we look there 
we may find it. We ought to explore the place and 
bring our bears out.” 

Josh made and lighted a torch and I tottered 
along behind him. Three cubs were standing by 
their old mother, smelling the dead body. Leaving 
them we looked at the other carcass, then around 
the lofty room, which was adorned with strange 
forms and columns, and stone icicles hanging from 
the roof. Near the entrance I saw the awl and 
handed it to Josh. 

“Why have you carved J. W. on it! You told 
me your name was Bowman.” 

In a moment I saw that my curiosity had hurt 
my friend, and I laid my hand on his arm say- 
ing: 

“Never mind. Tell me only what you like. I 
don’t need to know your past to trust you.” 

6 6 Sometime, Morris, I will tell ye all my history. 
I’m powerful glad to git this agin, an’ tonight I’ll 
make ye a warm shirt that’ll keep ye dry in the 


I Meet an Old Friend 235 

next storm. Look in here. We mought find more 
beasts in these other holes.’ ’ 

We did not explore them far, as our torch was 
burning out. In one we found ashes where perhaps 
the Indians had made a fire. The air was very 
dry and bracing and I thought it would be fine to 
sleep there. On a ledge above my head I discov- 
ered a bundle, and knocked it down with the muzzle 
of my gun. It was dark blue calico rolled up 4 and 
when I eagerly unwrapped it we found it was a 
woman’s dress. 

“This is the very thing to bind up yer 
scratches,” Josh said, holding it up to find a place 
to tear oft a bandage. But instead of doing that 
he held it near the torch and began to examine the 
sleeve, smoothing tenderly an odd-shaped patch 
of brown linsey. As I looked at him in surprise I 
saw the tears standing in his eyes, and his face 
was working as he tried to calm some great ex- 
citement of his tender heart. 

“What is this, Joshua t” 

For a moment he did not reply. Then he 
brushed away the tears. 

“My wife’s dress,” he said in a husky voice. 
“She had it on the day the Indians killed her. 
That is the stain of her blood. ’ ’ 


236 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

“Oh Josh. I’m so sorry for you,” was all I 
could say when he made this astonishing reply. I 
understood now the reason why he had left the 
settlements and spent his life in the forest, hunt- 
ing the savages who had inflicted this great loss 
upon him. I wanted to tell him how sorry I felt. 

“It’s 'a satisfaction to you to find the dress, al- 
though it brings your sorrow fresh to your mem- 
ory again. I am as sorry for you as I can he. I 
ought to know something about your feelings, for 
the wicked fiends killed my father, and my mother 
died of grief when I told her of it. I have only 
Susie left.” 

‘ ‘ They killed all my own and most of my father ’s 
family. My wife and baby were murdered in cold 
blood. We are companions in misery, Morris, and 
I will tell you all about it. Perhaps it will be a 
relief to me to unburden my heart of its sorrow, 
and to have the comfort of your sympathy. But 
let us go out of the cave before our torch burns out 
and leaves us in darkness.” 

How strange it was. Once again Joshua 
dropped the careless, uncouth speech, current 
among some of the ruder people of the West, and 
talked with the ease and grace of a man used to 
good society. As we went along he turned the 


I Meet an Old Friend 


237 


bears on their backs, saying that no wild beast 
would disturb them while their paws were up in 
the air in that position. He kindled a fire in the 
glen from his torch, and taking some vension from 
his pouch placed it on sharpened sticks before the 
fire to warm for our dinner, then sat down beside 
me for a few moments in silence. 


CHAPTER XIX 


JOSH TELLS HIS STORY 

“I lived in Virginia, where or when it does not 
matter. When I was seventeen years old I fought 
for a year under General Washington and was 
severely wounded at the battle of Brandywine. 
My father took me home as soon as I was strong 
enough to be carried over the rough mountain 
roads, and there I was tenderly cared for until my 
wound had healed and my strength returned. 

a In a neighbor’s family was a kind, gentle, in- 
dustrious and loving daughter one year younger 
than myself. She had several suitors, one of 
whom was a Tory, a man of wealth and position, 
who was determined to marry her, but with her 
noble and kind nature she gave her heart to the 
young wounded soldier. WTien I recovered my 
health we were married. 

“The other young men who had wanted her 
acquiesced in her choice and came to the wedding 
and infare with their hearty congratulations, ex- 
238 


239 


Josh Tells His Story 

cept this Tory alone. He grew very angry at my 
wife and at me because of my success. All his 
former love turned to hatred and he became my 
mortal enemy. Not long after this he went to 
Canada, deserting to the British, and was made a 
leader among the Indians against the Western 
settlements. 

“Near my father’s double log house where my 
parents, two young brothers and a married sister 
lived, I built a small cabin, and there I enjoyed 
such happiness as few know this side of Heaven. 
Into our Eden came a horde of red devils, led by 
this double-dyed fiend, fit only for the lowest pit 
where I sent him one year later to keep company 
with his Master. 

“We were out of meal and it was my turn to go 
to mill. I left my brother-in-law and the two boys 
with my father to guard the home in my absence. 
Soon after I had gone with the corn on our two 
horses, a boy came running in to tell us his father 
had been crushed by a tree falling on him, so Jack 
went over to their cabin to help get him home. 
The only thing he could do was to dig the ground 
away and draw him from beneath the tree, which 
was too heavy to lift away. All this took time, 
just when Jack was needed most at his own home. 


240 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

When I returned late in the afternoon I found 
him sitting in despair by the smoking logs of onr 
cabins, and on the grass lay the dead bodies of all 
onr dear ones, except my youngest brother, and 
my baby Caroline. 

“Can yon imagine my feelings when I raised 
my mother’s head from a pool of blood, and saw 
that her beautiful gray hair had been savagely cut 
from the head by scalping! Or when I saw my 
father’s dead hands still clutching the weapon 
with which he had tried to defend his family ! Or 
when I found my sister’s and my wife’s dead 
bodies a hundred yards away where they had been 
maltreated! Or when I searched in vain for my 
baby, and knew at last she had been carried away 
by such wicked fiends! 

“I did not stop long to mourn. Jack went one 
way and I another through the country, and by 
morning light we had raised a company of horse- 
men and were on the trail. The Indian band was 
a large one, and as we followed on their tracks we 
knew that their leader was a white man. My sus- 
picion was confirmed by all the facts we gathered 
as we followed, and when we caught up with the 
band we recognized him. They were opposite the 
mouth of the Hocking, preparing to cross the Ohio. 


241 


Josh Tells His Story- 

All the courage of my neighbors oozed out. They 
declared we were too few to make an attack, that 
if we did we would certainly he defeated and many 
of ns slain. 

“I begged and entreated them to make a dash 
at the enemy, but in vain. Then I reproached 
them till they grew angry at me, and so I became 
estranged from them. I could live there no longer 
in sight of the places where I had been so happy, 
and among men who were too cowardly to help me 
in my hour of need. So after my dear ones had 
been buried, I came away to hunt for my enemies, 
and to avenge my wrongs.’ ’ 

Joshua stopped speaking and shaded his face 
with his hand. After a moment or two of respect- 
ful silence, I said: 

“It is almost too horrible to believe, if a stranger 
had told me, and if I did not know that such 
horrors had been inflicted on many families in the 
West. Did you ever learn what became of your 
baby, or your brother V’ 

“She is dead. Happily she was killed also, and 
went to her mother. I heard her crying as one of 
the canoes was in the middle of the river, and I 
saw a brutal Indian strike her with his paddle and 
then throw her body into the water. It floated a 


242 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

few minutes and then disappeared and was never 
found, although I searched both banks for miles.’ ’ 

“And your brother, how old was he?” 

“Oh, Eben was eleven years old. I never heard 
from him and I suppose he is still among the In- 
dians. ’ ’ 

He put his hands to his head, and I noticed how 
red his face had become. 

“It sets my brain on fire to think of it, and all 
their sufferings. But they have been avenged a 
hundred fold.” 

He smoothed the old worn dress and then put 
it to his lips. What a tragedy had been unfolded 
in the finding of this old gown! The depravity 
of the crime, the depth of the sorrow, and the fear- 
fulness of the revenge were too grave for any ex- 
pression from a boy like me and I could say noth- 
ing. After awhile Josh rose, took down the sticks 
on which the meat was beginning to scorch, and 
set a generous supply before me. 

“Eat your dinner, Morris. It’s after the noon 
hour an’ ye must be hungry.” 

I was very hungry and made a good dinner, but 
Josh would eat nothing. He talked but little and 
dropped back into his usual ways and manner of 
speech. When I was done eating he took the dress 


243 


Josh Tells His Story 

and held it up to measure the length of a bandage 
around my chest, hut I would not permit him to 
make such a use of it. 

“Do not tear it, Josh. Keep it as it is. It is 
too sacred to use for me.” 

“Julia was kind-hearted to everybody and al- 
ways ready to help a body in trouble. I kind o’ 
thought she would like to hev ye use a part of it 
to bind up yer bad scratches. ’ ’ 

“Perhaps she would, hut I won’t let you do it, 
for it’s all you have of hers now. Keep it, Josh. 
Take good care of it, as a sacred keepsake.” 

Seeing that he was pleased, I added : 

“Let us look in that side cave again, for maybe 
the man who hid the dress hid other things there. ’ 9 

He made another torch and I pulled myself up 
and followed him slowly, for my left side was 
paining me very much, and I felt stiff and sore all 
over my body. Josh knocked down a loose stone 
on another projecting rock, and found a man’s 
coat and linen hunting shirt behind it. As the 
band returned from its raid, some Shawnee had 
probably stolen them from another, and hidden 
them here, never returning to get them. 

The cubs were still playing around their dead 
mother. Josh said it would be cruel to leave them 


244 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

to starve there, and that they should be killed, hut 
I suggested taking them back to our camp where 
they might amuse our men and we could kill them 
when we ran out of meat. So we left them until 
we could carry them away. 

“ Will yer men he searchin’ fer ye today?” 

i ‘ Jack and McDonald will come to look for me 
before night if I do not come in soon. I must go 
back to camp.” 

4 4 Ye’ll stay right here till I make ye a shirt, fer 
ye’ll need it. We shall have a change in the 
weather an’ it will be a ripsnorter, an’ ye would 
take cold in yer wounds an’ never get back to yer 
sister Susie. I’ll go to camp and tell them ye will 
be there tomorrer.” 

He went away soon after, and while he was gone 
I slept by the fire. It must have been three hours 
later when I heard him dragging some wood down 
the little glen. 

“ Who did you see at camp?” 

“ I saw several of yer men not fur away.” 

“What did they say?” 

“Nothin’.” 

1 1 Nothing. That’s strange. Did you tell them 
I was hurt by a bear ? ’ ’ 

“No, I didn’t talk to none of ’em. I slipped in 


245 


Josh Tells His Story 

quietlike an’ none of ’em snspicioned I was there. 
I put a paper in a split stick, and stuck it in the 
ground by the fire. ’ 9 

‘ 1 What did you write on it ? Where did you get 
paper and pen and ink V 9 I asked, much interested 
in Josh’s way of managing to take the word with- 
out being seen. 

“I told Massie ye was hurt by a b’ar, an’ in the 
morning to foller the trail I left from the mountain 
to this holler.” 

Josh now unrolled two beautiful doe skins as 
soft as wool, and began to cut out a shirt for me. 
He built up a large fire and we had some bear steak 
for supper. Then he went on with his work, and I 
dropped asleep as he was sewing. When I woke 
up about dawn the hermit was still at work. He 
cut the fringe around the yoke and down the side 
seams, and after a while held up the nicest shirt I 
had ever seen. The seams were sewed up with 
deer sinews. 

“It’s a beauty, Josh, and as warm and snug as 
wool. I am so glad to have it, and I thank you 
over and over for your trouble in making it.” 

“When the weather turns ye’ll be warm an’ 
keep well.” 


246 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

Soon after this I heard the sound of horses up 
the glen, and then Jack’s voice. I turned to speak 
to J osh hut he was gone. 


CHAPTER XX 


STARVATION CAMP 

J ack gave a shout as he saw me and I answered 
his hail, waving my hand to him, and then ran up 
the slope to the highest point to look for my friend. 
No human being was in sight except Jack, and no 
sound could be heard save the beat of the horses’ 
hoofs on the gravel banks. My side was in great 
pain from my exertion, still I ran down the slope 
and peered into the dark cavern, calling Josh to 
come hack, but all efforts were vain. Josh had 
vanished again, as he had when I first met him 
four years before. 

I could not bear to have this strange benefactor 
flee from human kind and go back to his solitary 
life. I knew that my friends in the camp would 
give him a warm welcome, and would soon become 
his friends, if he would but give them the oppor- 
tunity of knowing him. Massie would find a place 
for him at the station and give him work there, 
and he would soon become a useful member of 
society. My own feeling of gratitude to him made 
247 


248 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

me anxious to bring him back into the comfort and 
friendliness of human society; and that was a 
much stronger sentiment then than it is now in 
our cities and villages ; for in our stations we were 
bound together with almost a brother’s love for 
one another. Deeply disappointed in my search, 
I ran up the glen and called to Jack: 

“ Where’s Josh gone? Did you see him? 
Which way did he go ? ” 

Jack stared at me in amazement. 

“Are you losing your wits? What luny ques- 
tions you are asking! Who is Josh?” 

“Josh! He saved my life. He shot a bear that 
was killing me. He went to camp yesterday to tell 
you I was here. He lives by himself in the woods, 
and as soon as he saw you coming he slipped away 
and I can’t find him.” 

“I’m sorry you have lost him and I can see how 
you would feel bad about it,” Jack replied in a 
sympathetic way. 

“You look as if you had been in pretty consid- 
erable of a scrimmage with some wild beast. Are 
you hurt much, boy?” 

“I’m scratched deep from my shoulder to my 
belt on my left side and my arms are black and 
blue.” 


Starvation Camp 249 

“And that black eye. How did yon get that?” 

“When I fell on the stone floor in the cave, when 
I made the hear let go of me by choking her. ’ 9 

“Oh, it was a she hear in a cave, was it? Well 
yon can tell me abont it. ’ 9 

Then we sat down and I told him all abont the 
fight and Josh coming in the nick of time to my 
relief. His cnriosity was all excited abont the 
caves and he was for exploring them at once, but 
I had eaten nothing that morning and was feeling 
quite hungry and weak, so I made him wait until 
we had built up the fire and set some bear’s meat 
by the coals to broil. Then we each made a torch 
and spent some time in the cave until Jack was 
satisfied. I had hoped we might discover Josh in 
one of the recesses, but if he was in there he had 
so cleverly hidden from us that we did not find 
him. 

As we were in the cavern where the dress had 
been found I was on the point of telling Jack about 
it, but when I thought of the reluctance of Josh to 
speak of his past misfortunes, it seemed like a 
violation of his confidence for me to relate them 
without his consent, therefore I said nothing about 
it but told Jack of our finding the old coat and 
shirt. 


250 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

We dragged the two bears out into the open air 
where Jack skinned the bodies and cut off the best 
parts of the meat. Then he made pouches of the 
skins into which we put the cubs. This took so 
much time that the middle of the morning had 
passed before we had loaded the horses and started 
back to camp. Jack wanted very much to explore 
some of the other caves, but as he thought he ought 
to get to camp before dinner there was no time for 
it. We went back as near the gorge as we could, 
and I showed him the pool, and the arched window 
and some other of the most wonderful parts. 

I told John McDonald a little about Josh, and 
asked him if he knew who the hermit was. He said 
his misfortunes were much like those of James 
Maxwell, whom the Indians called “the soft 
stepper.’ ’ He had been gone a year and wrought 
a terrible work of revenge so that the Indians were 
all afraid of him. But Maxwell returned home, 
and was now a scout in Wayne’s army. For this 
reason it could not be he who had befriended me. 

The next day we broke up our camp and went to 
North Fork of Paint Creek, where, finding the vil- 
lages deserted and the country clear, we went into 
camp four miles north of Old Town, which is now 
called Frankfort. 


251 


Starvation Camp 

Hardly had we built our evening camp-fire when 
we began to realize that Josh’s prediction of a 
change of weather was about to come true. All 
day the clouds had stretched in long hazy veils 
across the sky. As evening drew on the sun went 
down behind a low line of dark gray clouds, and a 
few hours later the snow began to fall. In the 
morning there was a heavy coverlet of a foot of 
it on top of our blankets. All day it fell, and again 
the next day, until we were floundering around in 
snow between two and three feet deep. Indeed, it 
was one of the deepest snows I have ever seen in 
Ohio. The weather was not very cold yet, and it 
began to rain, so we hoped it would go off in the 
rain and that we could resume our surveying. 

Mr. Massie would not let me go out with the 
surveyors, but kept me by the fire, and gave me 
writing to do for him. I was glad to rest and to 
avoid exposure, and enjoyed the warmth of my 
new shirt as the weather grew colder. The third 
morning a cold wind swept down on us, freezing 
our blankets stiff, and covering all our fire wood 
with a coat of ice. It was an hour before we could 
make the fires burn and we had to run about to get 
warm. 

The wind was blowing with great force from 


252 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

the north, and it was impossible to he comfortable, 
except close to the great fires. Surveying was 
abandoned. The men took turns in chopping wood, 
and the horses were kept busy hauling it to the 
fires. 

That was an experience that tested the power of 
endurance of every man in our company. Some 
were careless at first, hut as the wind grew into a 
fiercer gale and the hitter cold stung our hands 
and faces, they learned that life itself might be 
lost if they did not protect themselves. 

One lesson I learned then that has been of great 
value to me ever since. Often do we hear men 
say that liquor warms them up, protects them from 
cold, and lessens the risk during exposure, and 
also that it gives them strength. But I soon no- 
ticed that the men who drank the most suffered 
the most of all, and then I found that those who 
used little or no liquor had greater power of re- 
sistance and a more even strength, and did not 
become exhausted as soon as the others. 

I went out for fire wood with our gang, and as 
we brought it in Mr. Massie looked at me, saying : 

* 1 Morris, your nose is pretty white. It must he 
frosted.” 


Starvation Camp 253 

“It did sting for awhile, but it does not hurt 
now . 9 9 

“Bub snow on it at once, and keep away from 
the fire for a few minutes or the skin will crack .’ 9 

I did this and rubbed my ears also, saving my- 
self a good deal of trouble by this immediate at- 
tention. Some of the men bad their faces frozen 
although they were near the fire and others bad 
their feet frozen. Such a miserable time I hope 
I may never see again. 

Massie was the most cheerful man of the com- 
pany. There were those who lost heart, and others 
who were selfish and churlish, for character is 
tested in such times of hardship, and men who 
have always borne the name of being good fellows 
sometimes fail sadly when such seasons of ad- 
versity come upon them. 

Massie, however, exerted all his powers to make 
things run as smoothly as possible and to keep the 
men in good spirits. He had stories to tell we had 
never heard. He started singing and contrived to 
have the men take up their usual diversions. He 
saw that fire wood was always on hand, and made 
us all as comfortable as possible in camp. 

There was one grave peril of which he was fully 
aware, hut kept to himself, although doing every- 


254 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

thing to avert it. It was not the danger of an In- 
dian attack, for of that we had no fear and took 
no precautions to prevent one. It was starvation. 
Our hunters usually found enough game for the 
next day’s use and sometimes, hut not often, by 
good fortune, they would get a little ahead. 

When the cold storm fell on us there was still 
some of the bear meat. No birds or animals could 
be found while the snow was falling. The play- 
ful cubs, which the men petted like kittens, were 
killed and roasted. When the storm was over 
there was nothing in camp to eat. The rain had 
frozen on the bushes and then a crust had formed, 
hard enough to bear a turkey, or a wolf, or a coon, 
but which broke under our feet and let us down 
into three feet of snow. Walking a short distance 
was as tiresome as a ten mile tramp ; running, an 
impossibility. 

The worst feature of these conditions was that 
every footstep breaking the crust made a noise 
in the still woods loud enough to be heard a quarter 
of a mile. If a hunter could get close enough to 
see a deer or a turkey, his steps would be heard 
against the wind, by their sensitive ears, long be- 
fore he came within shot. Most of them would 


Starvation Camp 255 

probably take the alarm before he discovered 
them. 

J ack had warned Massie of this before the hunt- 
ers went out in the morning. He said they would 
try their utmost to overcome the difficulties, but 
feared they would entirely fail. At night when 
they came in everyone knew that there was little 
more than enough food for one meal in camp, and 
as long as the crust on the snow remained, no hope 
of getting any more. Here we were one hundred 
miles from home and nothing for thirty men to 
eat. 

Of course there was grumbling and some loud 
talk and profanity, but soon Massie by his quiet 
influence stopped it and infused a better spirit 
among the men. His own example, stinting him- 
self that others might have more, shamed the 
grumblers. 

The next day the cold continued and the hunters, 
reinforced by several of the best shots, used all 
their skill without avail. They could not obtain 
a single bird. The desperate nature of our situ- 
ation was now apparent to everyone. Death stared 
us in the face. This extremity silenced small com- 
plaints and bound us together as a band of 
brothers doomed to a common fate. 


CHAPTER XXI 


A GRAND HUNT AND A FEAST 

After a night of anxiety that disturbed our 
slumbers, we awoke upon the third day of our 
starvation to find the cold was unbroken, and the 
terrible danger was now alarming. 

“I am going out with you today,” I said to Jack. 

4 ‘Weakened as you are from your wounds, you 
will exhaust yourself and perish in the snow.” 

“We shall all perish here unless we get some- 
thing to eat today.” 

“Ask Massie what he thinks.” 

“Go if you like,” Mr. Massie said. “It will 
make little difference when you die, and you have 
been such a fortunate lad, perhaps your presence 
will bring good luck to the hunters this morning . 9 9 

‘ ‘ There is no luck about me, but I think I know 
of a place where the turkeys might go to scratch 
in the snow for food. Some of them roost near it, 
and would be apt to stay close at hand, and I think 
I have a plan that will not fail to get us some of 
them . 9 ’ 


256 


A Grand Hunt and a Feast 257 

4 ‘ Thank God for your good sense and ready wit. 
God bless yon in the attempt. I’ll go along my- 
self. Let’s keep pretty close together so that if 
one drops the others can help him crawl back.” 

The best hunters and the strongest men were 
in our party, which I led off in a different direc- 
tion entirely from any Jack or McDonald had 
taken. It brought us over the hills to a sheltered 
nook along a small creek, three or four miles from 
our camp. Before we reached it we heard turkeys 
gobbling up the stream hidden by the intervening 
hills. 

I described the place to the whole party and 
told them my plan. There were bushes on the 
bottom and reeds in the creek with which we could 
make screens where we were out of hearing of the 
birds. Here the best hunters should be placed, 
then the rest should make a wide circle and come 
down the stream, slowly driving the birds down 
to the screens. One man should creep up to the 
top of the hills on each side of the birds, so that 
when they took the alarm, if they tried to scatter 
or go up over the hills they would be driven back 
to the stream. 

Jack and McDonald approved of my plan and 
thought it promised success. I let them work out 


258 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

the arrangements, and they placed one screen on 
each side of the bottom, and one on either hillside 
facing the creek, but farther up the stream. If 
the birds came down near the water as we ex- 
pected they would, they were to be allowed to ap- 
proach the lower screens before any shots were 
fired, but if they scattered on the higher ground, 
then the other hunters were to do their best. 

I was given a place in one blind and Jack an- 
other. Bell and William Leedom were posted on 
the hills, and McDonald and McArthur led the 
party that made a wide circuit and approached the 
flock from the other side. 

It seemed like an age before any birds came near 
us, and I thought I should freeze or be so stiff I 
could not pull the trigger when I had a bird in 
line. We still heard the turkeys and hoped they 
would not wander before the driving party came 
upon them. At last the gobbling drew nearer, 
then there was a hurried call of alarm, and the 
birds could be seen flying and running towards us. 
They were few indeed to make so much noise, and 
it behooved us to let none escape. 

After a few moments they drew near the screen 
where J ack and his companion were posted. Both 
fired and each brought down his bird. The other 


A Grand Hunt and a Feast 259 

three fled in great alarm. We all fired at them 
but our shots, if they took effect, did not stop their 
flight, and we got no more. We tried the same 
scheme again that day without success, and after 
a long tramp came into camp with only two birds. 
They were evenly divided amongst the whole com- 
pany, making about a pound of meat for each. 
Not a scrap of the flesh was wasted. The heads 
and feet were boiled and eaten. It was a scanty 
meal hut it was our salvation, and we were thank- 
ful and took courage. 

The next morning we broke camp and retreated 
ten miles homeward, a slow, laborious and painful 
journey. The horses broke a path, followed by the 
strongest men, who took turns in beating it down. 
Then the rest of us crawled along in single file. 
By noon the wind had gone down and the warm 
sunshine was softening the crust. After awhile 
we came over the hills that border the Rattlesnake 
fork and there Jack at the front signalled us to 
halt and keep quiet, for he had sighted turkeys. 
Our packs were carefully laid aside and every 
rifle was put in order. Then the flock was sur- 
rounded. Our most skilful hunters crept noise- 
lessly down and fired into the flock and one or two 
more were shot on the wing. 


260 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

That night we broke our long fast and each man 
had a good supper. We went to bed in good 
spirits, sleeping by the fires without guards. The 
next day we all went hunting, and nearly every 
man brought in something. Before noon our game 
pile was a big one. A bear, three deer and a dozen 
turkeys drove all fear of starvation from our 
minds. We had a great feast that afternoon, and 
a jollier crowd never camped on Rattlesnake than 
our party that night. 

As the snow was rapidly melting we turned our 
faces north again, and by noon had reached our 
deserted starvation camp. When the waters in 
the swollen streams had subsided we resumed our 
surveying and lived in comfort until it was fin- 
ished. Ten days later we started homeward, a 
contented and even happy set of men. 

I felt particularly well pleased with the result 
of this trip. I had earned more money than ever 
before, and had endured the hardships of our 
starving tour as well as any man in the company. 
As we came down into the valley of Paint Creek 
a few miles above its junction with the Scioto, I 
thought that beautiful valley lying so peacefully 
among the hills was the cosiest spot for a home I 
had ever seen. 


A Grand Hunt and a Feast 261 

I pointed out the place to Massie, who said the 
land belonged to him and that he would sell it to 
me on easy terms, deducting what I had earned by 
my winter’s work. So then and there we made a 
survey of two hundred acres of bottom and up- 
land, and I, Morris Patterson, seventeen years old, 
had bound myself to pay three hundred dollars 
within three years. Not many men would have 
trusted a boy in that way, much less to that 
amount. It was like Mr. Massie to do it, for he 
sought to help others. When men applied to him 
for accommodation, he sold his land on easy pay- 
ments, and often without much security except his 
accurate reading of character. 


CHAPTER XXII 


TOM ANDERSON WANTS A COMRADE 

When we reached the crown of the hill above 
the station a few of ns fired onr rifles, and all 
raised a hearty cheer. The rear gate was thrown 
open, and men, women and children came running 
up the path to meet us. 

Susie threw her arms around me and for a 
moment her joy was so great that she could not 
speak. 

‘ 1 Oh, Morris ! ’ 9 she cried at last. ‘ 1 1 am so re- 
lieved and happy to see you safe and well. I’ve 
worried over you so that I could not sleep. Where 
were you in that awful storm. Are you well ? ’ 9 

“I am as sound as a nut and as fat as a young 
shote. We were all out in the snow and wind. 
We had big fires, still it was pretty tough, but we 
came through it all right. My nose has a new 
skin, and some of the boys had their hands and 
feet frosted .’ 9 

“Why didn’t you build some huts, or bark 
shanties, or a three faced camp?” 

262 


Tom Anderson Wants a Comrade 263 

“It would have been a sensible thing to do, but 
who would think a storm would last four or five 
days in the middle of March? We shall do it the 
next time.” 

“ There won’t be any next time for you. I’ll not 
let you go out again in the winter to suffer such 
exposure,” Susie replied with that assumption of 
sisterly authority which deep affection prompts. 
I looked up at my sister, fifteen years old, tall, 
strong and fine looking, and I was glad that I had 
a home to come back to, and someone to watch 
over me with a sister’s unselfish, devoted love. 

Still, I thought I must not give up too much to 
her, so I answered : 

“Why not? I am sure I don’t want to go 
through another storm in that way. We had no 
reason to expect such polar weather in the spring, 
but we came through it in good shape. You are 
the last one to pamper me up like a baby, and have 
me leave my work undone lest I should be out in 
a storm that might never come. Lots of Indian 
women and children in the far North are out in 
such weather every winter. You do not want me 
to be more tender than they, do you ? ’ ’ 

“But this was terrible, Morris. I am going to 
take good care of you after this, if you don’t take 


264 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

better care of yourself. But come to the cabin. 
The fire is ready to light and I’ll get a shovel of 
coals of Mrs. Ellison as we go by her door, and 
in less than an hour I’ll have a good hot supper 
for you.” 

I wondered what Susie would say when I told 
her of my fight with the bear, and of the narrow 
escape from starving to death, but I reserved 
those stories until after supper. The cabin was 
very neat and comfortable that night, and Susie 
made me realize in every way a sister could the 
gladness and the love she felt. Ours was indeed 
a happy little home, and because there were but 
the two of us we were drawn closer together than 
perhaps brothers and sisters are in larger families. 
I thanked God for my home and determined that 
I would be worthy of my sister’s trust and pride 
in me, and of her great affection. 

The next day we rested and spent our time tell- 
ing our experiences, for each one of us was called 
on several times for his story by the different 
groups that gathered at the cabin doors to hear 
us. That was an exciting day at Massie’s station. 

In the afternoon, Tom Anderson, having heard 
of our arrival, came over to see me, and to get the 
news of our expedition at first hand. He was not 


Tom Anderson Wants a Comrade 265 

satisfied until I had told him all about it. Then he 
hunted up Jack and McArthur and McDonald and 
made them relate it all over again, until he was 
sure he had learned all he could of our remarkable 
experiences. 

“It surely was a tough time,” he said to me 
when we came back to our cabin. “I don’t believe 
I envy you the hardship and suffering. A warm 
cabin was a much safer and more comfortable 
place two weeks ago than lying by the fire in the 
wind and snow. Yet I don’t know but I do envy 
you after all, for I would like to be able to say that 
I had been through it all, and it must be some sat- 
isfaction to a man to look on it afterwards. A 
man can’t look out for his ease and comfort, and 
do much that is worth doing, that is grand and 
heroic. Such deeds are done at the cost of suffer- 
ing and toil, and deeds of daring, like your fight 
with the bear, are at the risk of life.” 

“ I did not feel very heroic when that freezing 
wind was raising goose-bumps all over my legs 
and back. But what you say is true, Tom. All 
worthy deeds cost something, and a selfish and 
self-indulgent man will fail of the highest and best 
deeds. But there are not very many people of 


266 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

that kind out here. The life of the West is too 
arduous for such men and women.’ ’ 

“I am going out with Massie the next time. I 
would have gone on this tour, if father had let me 
go. Fathers are responsible for much mental suf- 
fering to their boys by holding them down and 
sitting on them, when they want to be doing things. 
You orphans are a happy set for you can do as 
you please.” 

As Tom said this with a deep sigh one might 
have supposed he was the most repressed and un- 
happy son in Kentucky. But Susie and I, who 
knew of his happy home life and of his love and 
reverence for his father, laughed aloud at his 
comic distress. 

“You are a fraud, Tom. Don’t try to excite our 
sympathy by pretending that you are snubbed at 
home. You needn’t put on the airs of a victim of 
a parent’s tyranny. You won’t get any sympathy 
from Morris and me, for we know you too well.” 

1 ‘ 1 may as well go home then, Susie. My mother 
will be kinder to her unfortunate son, who wants 
a chance and can’t get it.” 

“Come back tomorrow, Tom. I’ll give you a 
chance to work hard. I’m going to have a log- 
rolling. Stay with me three days, and help me 


Tom Anderson Wants a Comrade 267 

clean up my inlot and get it ready for plowing.’ ’ 

“All right, I’m with you, old friend. But you 
will have to pay me up by plowing for me the next 
week. ’ ’ 

To this I agreed of course. Several of my neigh- 
bors helped me with my log-rolling, and as we 
worked we talked over the new expedition to the 
Scioto that Massie was planning. A company was 
now being formed to make a settlement at the 
mouth of Paint Creek, and Tom urged me to go 
with him. 

I was strongly inclined to join it; hut as Susie 
wanted me to stay at home and begged me not to 
go away again so soon, I hardly knew which way 
to turn. Susie and Tom argued the matter every 
day, and I finally put off my decision for awhile 
and gave my mind to my work, of which I had 
much to do. 

Two weeks later Tom came back again full of 
enthusiasm over the new settlement. I had plowed 
my lot and dragged brush over it, and today Susie 
was dropping corn while I followed, covering it. 
As I leaned on my mattock to talk, Susie sat down 
on a grassy spot by a stump, and began to gather 
violets, spring beauties, liverworts and anemones, 
arranging a bouquet for the dinner table. 


268 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

“I think it’s mean of yon, Tom, to try to per- 
suade Morris to go away from me again,’ ’ Susie 
said in a rather pettish tone. ‘ ‘You know he has 
work to keep him at home, and I need him so 
much . 9 9 

“But this is the best chance that has offered yet, 
Susie. Every man who joins the company now 
will get an inlot and an outlot in a place that is 
bound to grow fast.” 

“Is Parson Finley going!” 

“Of course; he is the one who organized the 
whole enterprise. A good many of his church 
members are in it,” Tom replied, giving me the 
names of some of the best in the settlement at Con- 
cord, Kentucky. “For a while it looked as if the 
whole Presbyterian church would move up there. 
They say they are disgusted with slavery and they 
want to help found a free state. Some of them 
backed out, but a good many men are coming from 
Pennsylvania, and as soon as they get here they 
will choose their leaders and start. If they like 
the land they are going to buy twenty thousand 
acres of Massie and divide it up among them- 
selves. 9 9 

* ‘ Massie has the land and more in other places. 
What will they give him for it!” 


Tom Anderson Wants a Comrade 269 

‘ 4 Twenty shillings an acre for the whole tract. 
He says the river land is worth more than that. ’ ’ 

As I looked oft* down the river I felt an almost 
uncontrollable impulse to drop this irksome work 
and go with the company to those fair lands on the 
Scioto. 

“Come with me, Morris,’ ’ Tom pleaded. “I 
want you to be with me. It will he so much more 
fun to have a partner like you, and you will steady 
me to work and do my best.” 

“I’d like to show you the caves and wild places 
on Rocky Fork, and my bear den.” 

“And I want to see them, and your land on 
Paint Creek. Why, Morris, this new town will 
prosper from the start. I want to buy several 
good lots, for in a few years they will be worth a 
good many times what I’ll pay for them.” 

“You are very sanguine, Tom. I also think it 
will grow, for it is Massie’s plan, formed long ago. 
A good many Virginians have entered land and 
they will enter more there or sell their land to 
others when the Indian war is over. But I can’t 
go now without breaking my word with my neigh- 
bors. I have changed work with them, and they 
have cleared my land for me, and now I have to 
pay up my debts to them in work that will keep me 


270 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

busy for some time. Then this corn will he coming 
up and need hoeing, and if I am off in the woods, 
Susie will he breaking her hack hoeing corn. I 
can’t honorably go just now.” 

“I am tired of so much talk,” Susie said. “I 
will go in and get dinner. Morris, don’t let Tom 
persuade you to leave me. He ought to see that 
you must stay at home now. You are only too 
ready to drop your work and go off on some wild 
goose chase.” 

Susie’s last remark set me to doing some sober 
thinking. Was it true that I was growing into a 
restless, changeable state of mind, like those ne’er- 
do-wells, who are always moving from place to 
place! I had to confess that there was danger of 
it. The spirit of wandering was in my blood. I 
could now see in my mind those beautiful places 
I had visited and I longed to go there again, and 
to explore other lands unknown to me. Work was 
growing tedious and I would rather hunt and trap 
and survey land. 

After a while we went on with the planting and 
were half through when Susie called us to dinner. 
Tom tried to think up some plan to relieve me of 
my obligations for work, but neither of us could 
find a way out. 


Tom Anderson Wants a Comrade 271 

That evening Israel Donalson came to the sta- 
tion, and Tom and I talked the matter all over with 
him. He brought a copy of General Wayne’s 
proclamation, dated February 22nd, 1795 , in which 
he referred to his negotiations with the Indians 
and said: 

“In the name of the President of the United 
States, I do hereby forbid any party or parties, 
citizens of the United States, from entering the 
Indian country northwest of the Ohio river with 
hostile intentions (without permission from the 
proper authorities first obtained) between this 
period and the end of the pending treaty, as they 
will answer a contrary conduct at their peril.” 

Israel advised us both to stay at home. It was 
possible some of the Indians were up there hunt- 
ing, and there might be a fight and serious trouble. 

“General Wayne is not a man to be trifled with, 
Morris. He might put you all under arrest.” 

Susie spoke of her anxiety about my losing my 
industrious habits and Israel talked with me 
seriously on that subject. 

“I did not take all that trouble to give you an 
education only to have you throw it away. I want 
you to amount to something as a useful man in 
the community you live in, and in our future state. 


2J2 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

You must be a freeholder as you are here, and if 
you get a good deal of property so much the better. 
Take an interest in local affairs and you will be- 
come influential in a wider circle. I expect to 
meet and work with you in the legislature some- 
time, when we will join in making good laws, and 
in setting up good schools and building good roads. 
I don ’t want you to be ‘ a rolling stone that gathers 
no moss.’ ” 

I knew this was wholesome advice, but the im- 
pulse to go with Tom was very strong. I fought 
it out in my own heart and decided to stay at home, 
and events proved my decision was a wise one. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


A FOOLHARDY SETTLER 

Now I must turn back a few months to relate an- 
other part of this story. Sometime in February, 
I do not remember just when, but I know it was 
a few weeks before we started on our Starving 
Tour, I had gone up the river with Andrew Elli- 
son to work with him on his farm. As we were 
chopping we saw a man in a canoe paddling across 
the river a mile above us. He had a horse fastened 
behind his frail bark, and he led the way with his 
boat while the animal followed, swimming. At 
first the horse was fractious and it took some time 
to quiet him, but after awhile the man got away 
and the horse swam after him. The whole attempt 
was such a risky thing that we stopped our work 
and watched him until he was safely over. From 
the top of our hill we could see very distinctly, al- 
though he landed a half mile above us. Having 
tied the horse to a bush near the water he began 
to carry some baggage from the boat up the bank. 
273 


274 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

“Of all the foolish, absurd things a man can try 
to do I think that is about the craziest and yet he 
has by good luck succeeded. I’m going down 
there to see who he is and what he is going to do 
next. ’ ’ 

“Hold on, Morris. He is going back. See, he 
is getting into the boat and taking up his stone 
anchor, and now he is lifting his paddle. From 
the way he moves about and the canoe wabbles, I 
should say he never was in a canoe before. He 
will be over again and then we will go down and 
talk to him. ’ 9 

“He’s a specimen if ever there was one. We 
shall have something new to tell the boys tonight. ’ ’ 

‘ 4 That man ought to go around the country and 
exhibit himself for a show. He could charge a 
coonskin apiece and make his living at it. I wish 
we had gone down there in time to see his perform- 
ance with the horse, close at hand.” 

“Pretty good, Andrew. When we go down 
there, we shall see how close a fit your guess is.” 

We went on chopping with an eye on the river, 
and after awhile we saw a woman get into the 
canoe. Then the man handed her a baby and 
stepped in himself. Another man got in and with 
a practiced hand sent the canoe along at a steady 



" HE’S 


A SPECIMEN IF EVER THERE WAS ONE 


t ) 




A Foolhardy Settler 275 

stroke. We hurried down the hill and up the river, 
arriving just in time to see them land. 

It was all as we had preconceived it from our 
distant view, only a little worse. The man, John 
Wilcoxon, was moving into the wilderness with 
his little family, his wife and baby. He had come 
up from the mountains of Tennessee, having heard 
that Wayne had conquered the Indians, and was 
going up North to find a rich farm and settle on it. 

Such blind faith staggered us, but we tried to 
reason with them, and to prevent their going to 
almost certain destruction. 

“Man alive! You don’t know what you are at- 
tempting,” said Andrew. “The Indians are not 
yet pacified. They are whipped, but they are mad. 
They are sullen and the English are trying to get 
them to fight again. General Wayne hopes to 
make a treaty with them in the spring or summer, 
but until he does there ’s no safety in trusting your- 
selves among them.” 

“They have been well whipped and they haven’t 
any stomach for fighting. I haven’t any quarrel 
with the Indians. I can live in peace with them 
and they won’t do me any harm. I will help them 
and they will help me or let me alone.” 


276 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

Mr. Ellison hardly knew what answer to make 
to such ignorance and childish trustfulness. 

“I was peacefully going out to my land to chop 
trees when the Indians captured me. They took 
me to their villages up there where you say you 
are going, and made me run the gantlet. That is, 
they nearly heat me to death, and it took me w.eeks 
to get over it. Then they carried me to Canada, 
and a kind Englishman bought me from them, and 
gave me money to come home. 

“If you go up there I’ll tell you what will likely 
happen. The Indians will capture you all. They 
will heat you as they did me. If they don’t kill 
you they will make a slave of you. Some big chief 
will marry your wife and adopt your baby, and 
you will have to hoe corn with the squaws and see 
it all.” 

Mr. Ellison’s vigorous statement made the 
woman grow pale, but had little effect on the man. 

“I feel a call to go up into this northern land. 
My spirit was vexed with the cruel oppression of 
the black people. I am going to a land of freedom. 
The Lord will protect me and my family. But if 
it be His will that I should be captured or even 
killed, it is useless for me to fight against it, for so 
it must be.” 


A Foolhardy Settler 277 

“The Lord expects you to use your common 
sense, if you have any. And if you are deficient 
there, you’d better use your wife’s.” 

This made the mild-tempered man angry. 

“Enough has been said. We must he going on 
our way. ’ ’ 

“I 'didn’t mean to give you offense and hope you 
will not take any. I only wish to help you out of 
my own experience and that of my neighbors. 
Come down to our station and talk to Nathaniel 
Massie, our leader. He has been up in the North 
several times, knows all the lands and the temper 
of the Indians, and he can tell you of the danger 
you will encounter.” 

‘ ‘ I see no need of taking counsel with him or 
your neighbors. Betsy, we will load up our beast 
and be going.” 

He took up his bed tick that was filled with 
blankets and clothing and other articles, and threw 
it on his horse, then proceeded to pack the rest of 
his goods on the animal and tie them fast with a 
long leather strap. The young man whose canoe 
they had used joined Mr. Ellison in protesting 
against their going out into almost certain destruc- 
tion, and I added my entreaties to theirs, urging 
the strangers to come to our station and to remain 


278 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

until it was safe for them to make a settlement. 
All our words were wasted on dull ears, and as 
soon as their baggage was fastened the man helped 
his wife to a seat on top of the load, gave her the 
baby, called his dog, and with his gun on his 
shoulder started up a little valley that opened be- 
tween the hills. 

“They are a pair of binies,” said the young 
man as he took up his paddle and pushed his canoe 
into the river. 

“I am glad the woman has the dog for com- 
pany, ’ ’ I said. 

“May God help them, for they need it. But I 
fear they will have a hitter experience before they 
see the summer,” was Mr. Ellison’s conclusion 
as we turned to go hack to our task. 

We found afterwards that a week later they 
camped out about thirty-five miles from the river, 
waiting for a storm to blow over. Their horse 
broke away from his tether. When the storm was 
past the man left his wife in camp, and, taking the 
dog, started off to follow the trail of his horse, 
which had wandered off a long distance. He found 
him by a large spring, the famous Sinking Spring 
of Highland County, and thinking this was the 


A Foolhardy Settler 279 

place he sought he moved his family there and 
squatted on the land. 

He cut down small trees, hauled up the logs 
near the spring and with the aid of his wife laid 
up a small hut of a cabin with a little chimney at 
one end, and a rough door at the side. A pole 
bedstead was built in the end opposite the fire- 
place, and the tick, filled with dead leaves, made a 
bed. A couple of blocks answered for chairs and 
they were ready for their primitive housekeeping. 

Having girdled the trees on a piece of mellow 
land near the cabin, they raked away or burned 
off the leaves, and planted corn and garden seeds, 
and the woman transplanted vines about the cabin, 
and sowed some flower seeds near it. Meantime, 
John supplied the table generously by his skill 
with his rifle. Here like two unconscious children 
this simple-hearted couple lived in the first home 
established by white people in that part of our 
state, and if there had been no savages in Ohio, it 
would have been one of peace and unalloyed hap- 
piness. 

One day in following a deer, John found a bee 
tree two miles from his cabin, and after marking 
it left a trace to guide him to the spot. When he 
reached home he made a rude bucket of bark, and 


280 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

the next morning, with his ax and rifle, went back 
for the spoil. After a hard two hours’ chopping, 
the big tree fell, and the hollow trunk was soon 
split open, and its sweet treasure at his disposal. 
The bucket was filled with the best of the comb, 
but a great quantity remained which would be 
found by the bears, and after they had gorged 
themselves there would be none left. John thought 
he would save all he could by eating it. 

The bees, stupefied by the disaster to their home, 
did not molest him as he sat upon the trunk, but 
the crash of the falling tree had been heard a long 
way off by unsuspected ears. Some Indians stole 
up behind him and seized his arms. An unkind 
fate had fallen him and John quietly accepted it. 

The scene was now reversed. The white man, 
tied to a tree, looked on while the dirty, hungry 
savages gorged themselves with honey. When 
they could eat no more, one took the ax, another 
the rifle, a third the pail, and driving their unwill- 
ing prisoner before them they leisurely went off 
toward their camp on Paint Creek. Three days 
later they came into their camp below the falls at 
the ford which has long been called Reeves Cross- 
ing. 

There were forty Shawanoese in the camp, who 


A Foolhardy Settler 281 

had refused to go to Greenville to join in making 
a treaty with General Wayne. Their leader was 
Puck-se-kaw, or the Jumper. They had probably 
started off on a hunting expedition, hut when they 
came so near the border, the spirit of revenge for 
their losses in the battle with Wayne, and the 
thirst for plunder took them over into Virginia on 
a foray against the settlements. When Wilcoxon 
was brought into camp he saw there the scalps of 
their victims and a lot of plunder they had brought 
back with them. 

It was now the middle of May. The air was 
sweet with the perfume of blossoms, and the corn 
in his little clearing was up and needed hoeing. 
John, tied to a tree in the Indian camp, could not 
understand this dark misfortune that had befallen 
him. He groaned over the fate of his wife and 
child, alone in the wilderness and without much 
food in the cabin. For the first time he doubted 
the wisdom of his own judgment, and earnestly 
prayed God to take care of his wife and baby. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE LAST SKIRMISH WITH THE INDIANS IN OHIO 

About the first of May, 1795, there was a good 
deal of excitement at our station and at Limestone 
over the preparations for Massie’s expedition. A 
company of men had come down from Pennsyl- 
vania by land and others by water. Some of these 
were men who had been engaged in what was called 
the Whisky Insurrection in Pennsylvania in the 
fall and winter of 1793-4, and as the Government 
was arresting and trying those who made the riots, 
they wanted to hide themselves for a time. 

When all had arrived and their preparations 
were completed, there were sixty men in the com- 
pany. Tom Anderson made a final effort to induce 
me to go, and was much disappointed and a little 
provoked with me and also with Susie because I 
would not join him. They divided the company 
into three bands, with Mr. Massie as leader of the 
first, Rev. Robert Finley of the second, and Cap- 
tain Fallenash. an old Revolutionary veteran, of 
the third. 


282 


The Last Skirmish 


283 

It was nearly the middle of May when they 
started, and three days later they came to Paint 
Creek at the falls, and went into camp for the night. 
The leaders were careful to send scouts on ahead 
and to post sentinels at night. These precautions 
seemed unnecessary to some of the young men, 
who were very loud in boasting of what they would 
do to the Indians if they showed themselves. Cap- 
tain Fallenash, however, knew the value of watch- 
fulness when in the enemy’s country and he had 
not much faith in the prowess of these boasters. 

“Tom,” he said, “I want you on guard tonight, 
for you will keep awake. These young fellows that 
can shoot so well with their mouths will run as 
soon as they smell Indian powder, or I am very 
much mistaken . 9 9 

No signs of Indians were discovered and they 
had a quiet night, hut the scouts were sent out be- 
fore dawn, and those who went down the creek 
picked up the trail of a large band, which had come 
up from the South the day before. They instantly 
sent word to Massie, and followed up the trail to 
the ford, two miles below the falls of Paint. 

The leaders consulted together, and decided to 
follow the Indians and attack the camp. Their 
reasoning was that this was the only way of saving 


284 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

the expedition from disaster: the Indians would 
discover their camp in the morning and follow 
them if they retreated; if the band was large 
enough it would attack them as soon as it overtook 
them ; if it was a small band it would pass them in 
the night and ambush them. The reasoning was 
probably correct, and the conclusion- to attack the 
Indians seemed to be the best way out of a bad 
situation. 

Massie and Captain Fallenash acted promptly, 
and in a few minutes the arms were examined, and 
the three bands on their way to surround the In- 
dians. It was not daylight when they came near 
the place called Reeves Crossing, and the Indian 
camp was silently surrounded before the redmen 
were awake. At a given signal each band marched 
up and the attack began. 

The Indians were completely taken by surprise, 
and rose in confusion and fled across the stream. 
Two were killed and a number were wounded. 
Massie ? s company took possession of the camp and 
found a white prisoner there, tied to a tree. It 
was John Wilcoxon, who was very happy at being 
released in this unexpected way, but before long 
he began to think it was not so very strange after 
all, and seemed to take it for granted that the Lord 


The Last Skirmish 285 

had sent this company of men np there for no other 
purpose than to save him in his extremity. 

Massie found a large amount of plunder in the 
camp, which proved clearly that these Indians had 
been on a foray somewhere south of the river, in- 
stead of being peaceably engaged in hunting, as 
they afterwards represented to General Wayne. 
There were also a good many horses near by. 
These were driven in and caught and the baggage 
loaded on them. The Indians had carried their 
guns with them in their flight and now began to fire 
across the creek. Joshua Eobinson from Pennsyl- 
vania was killed in this way. A grave was dug 
and his body buried there. 

Captain Pattee, who had command of the rear 
guard, began to joke some of the young men who 
had slunk out of the fight and hid near the rear. 

“ Don’t be too hard on them, Captain Fallen- 
ash,” he said, “I think they are sick. They were 
shaking with the ague when the fighting com- 
menced. No wonder they had to lie down away 
from the noise and confusion.” 

This fight put an end to the exploration of the 
land for that season, and having put the company 
in good military array Massie gave the command 
to retreat. They marched about twenty miles and 


286 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

camped for the night on Scioto Brush Creek, choos- 
ing a good location for defense, because they fully 
expected the Indians would follow them and make 
an attack in retaliation for their defeat. John 
Wilcoxon had told them there were forty men in 
the hand; and that many bloodthirsty Shawano- 
ese, smarting under their defeat, would be certain 
to make a vigorous attack and give the company 
some very hot fighting before they reached the 
station. 

The best men were selected for sentinels and the 
guard changed at frequent intervals. Just at day- 
break one of the sentinels perceived a motion in 
the grass, and, watching it, saw that something was 
crawling towards him. He instantly fired, and 
either killed or wounded an Indian. From all sides 
rifles were fired into the camp, but the white men 
were alert and held their camp, steadily returning 
the fire of the enemy, whenever one showed him- 
self or his position. 

There was a deep sink hole in the camp and in 
this some of the cowardly skulkers hid themselves. 
The battle continued for an hour, when two of the 
Indians being killed and several wounded, they 
became discouraged and silently vanished. No 


The Last Skirmish 287 

white man was killed, hut one by the name of Gil- 
fillan was severely wounded in the thigh. 

Some of the horses had been killed, hut enough 
remained to carry a litter for the wounded man 
and all the baggage, and Manchester was reached 
without any further adventures. This was the last 
battle between white men and Indians on the soil 
of Ohio until the war of 1812. 

John Wilcoxon found his way home on the day 
of the battle at Reeves Crossing. His wife had 
spent these days in great fear and agony, dis- 
tressed by her uncertainty about him, and in anx- 
iety for her own safety. She had no weapon but 
a hatchet, so she barred her door and waited, nearly 
frightened to death, until John should return or 
his continued absence should show he was dead. 

“Well, Betsy, I’ve brought you no honey after 
all. The Indians et it all.” 

“What do I care for honey? Here I endured 
torments for four days because I feared you was 
et up by a bear or killed by Indians. I couldn’t 
sleep a wink at night for the howlin’ of the wolves 
that I thought mebbe had torn you to pieces, and 
when the owls hooted I was all of a tremble for 
fear it was Indians making signs. What did they 
do to you?” 


288 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

1 1 Captured me for a few days, but the Lord sent 
a lot of white men to release me. You ort to have 
more faith, Betsy. I asked the Lord to save me 
and He did.” 

John seemed to have brought Betsy over to his 
way of thinking, for instead of fleeing to a safer 
place, there they lived, all alone, for a year. If 
that band of infuriated savages discovered them 
they must have considered them possessed of evil 
spirits, and so avoided them through fear of bring- 
ing another disaster upon themselves. 

This unfortunate expedition came near resulting 
in very serious consequences to a good many peo- 
ple. The Indians were enraged and at once sent a 
runner to Blue Jacket. In less than a week General 
Wayne had received a complaint that Massie and 
Finley had attacked a peaceable company of Sha- 
wanoese, murdered some of them, and plundered 
their camp. He at once wrote to Governor St. 
Clair detailing three outrages of a similar char- 
acter, committed against the Indians. These 
affairs caused the General great uneasiness, be- 
cause they jeopardized all his efforts to produce a 
friendly feeling among the Indians, and to make a 
treaty of peace with them. 


The Last Skirmish 289 

General Wayne was very angry about it, as these 
words in his letter will show : 

' “If the real object of Parson Finley and Mr. 
Massie and their party was to form a settlement 
on the Scioto, they took a very improper mode to 
effect it by attacking and plundering the Indians 
(who were in a peaceable hunting camp) in place 
of gaining their friendship and confidence by acts 
of kindness and hospitality. 

“This Mr. Finley cannot be a disciple of the 
meek Jesus ; otherwise, he would not thus wantonly 
bring war and desolation upon the innocent by the 
sinful aggressions of his hordes of plunderers . 9 1 

He urged the Governor to take proper action in 
the case and offered to co-operate with him in his 
measures. 

Governor St. Clair replied in the same spirit. 
He said if he could obtain any evidence whatever 
he would proceed against Mr. Massie. None of the 
others were residents of the territory, and had 
gone over into Kentucky, hence were not in his 
jurisdiction. 

Governor St. Clair, however, wrote to Governor 
Shelby of Kentucky and stated the facts of the 
raid, and also that the depredations suffered by 
the people in Kentucky in the last few weeks had 


290 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

been committed by this same band of Indians, in- 
furiated by the wanton attack made upon them by 
Finley and Massie. He urged him to prosecute the 
Kentuckians engaged in it. Governor St. Clair 
also went over to Lexington to hunt up some evi- 
dence against Mr. Massie. 

It looked as if there would be some serious 
trouble about it, but after all nothing was done. 
When the treaty had been signed in August, Gen- 
eral Wayne sent Blue Jacket after these unruly 
Shawanoese, and he brought them back with him 
to Greenville. Puck-se-kaw acknowledged his fault 
to General Wayne, and promised to live in peace, 
and he delivered up to him four white prisoners 
they had lately captured in Kentucky. Mr. Massie 
had business in the East and went to Virginia early 
in the summer, so the prosecution against him was 
dropped. 


CHAPTER XXV 


A DARING VENTURE 

Tom Anderson was a restless lad all that sum- 
mer, as his plans were broken up by the failure of 
Massie’s expedition. Israel Donalson found him 
working with me on my cornfield and talked it all 
over with us. 

“This is a good discipline for you, Tom,” he 
said, 4 4 for it will teach you patience. The door is 
shut now and you can not open it, hut stand by 
and he ready when it opens after awhile, as it will. 
Meantime you and Morris would do well to work 
together and get a lot of clearing done.” 

After Israel went on Tom and I talked over the 
situation, and although I had no money with which 
to hire Tom, he agreed to work with me for two 
weeks, and then I would go with him into his 
father’s harvest field. When those jobs were fin- 
ished other farmers in Kentucky wanted us, and 
work being plenty and wages fair, Tom was con- 
tented and happy. Then my corn was ripe for 
291 


292 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

cutting and after that we went out to my farm on 
Gift Ridge and spent three weeks clearing a field 
for grain. 

“What shall we do this winter, Morris? I be- 
lieve there is more profitable work than chopping. ’ ’ 

“Certainly there is. Skins and furs are the best 
paying product of this country. Bears are thick 
in the woods now. Let us go partners in hunting 
and trapping this winter.’ ’ 

“I’ll go with you and am glad of the chance. 
You have been out so much with Massie, you know 
what to do and how to live and where to go in the 
woods. I would feel perfectly safe with you.” 

“There is much for me to learn yet, but I don’t 
think I would lose my way or my head. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ When shall we go ? ” 

“Not until I get my corn husked and haul in my 
winter wood for Susie. That will take us some 
time yet.” 

But in a way I had not expected my work was 
shortened up. 

“Morris, we all owe you work,” said John Mc- 
Donald to me the day I began to haul in my corn. 

“I reckon not,” I answered. “Everyone about 
here has been mighty good to me, and the little I 
can do does not pay my debt to you. ’ ’ 


293 


A Daring Venture 

1 * It is just the other way. You have lent a will- 
ing hand and foot to every man in the station. 
Isn’t that so, Andrew?” 

“Ay, it is, and the women would say the same, 
I remember the times Morris has watched with our 
sick boy when my wife and I were all tuckered 
out. ’ 9 

“Oh, that is nothing. I liked to do a little for a 
nice boy as he is. If you are going to talk this way 
I will clear out to the woods tomorrow . 9 9 

My friends said no more, and I write this down 
only that you may understand what followed. I 
saw McDonald look at the heap of corn and wink 
at Ellison, who nodded in reply, but I gave the 
matter no more thought as I drove off with my 
rude sled for another load. It was near sundown 
when Tom pulled off the last ear and we started 
for the station. 

“I think there will be fifty bushels. You will 
have some to sell, for you and Susie cannot eat it 
all.” 

“I would not want to pound it all into meal 
either. But, Tom, look down the river. That’s 
Kenton’s big boat and the second oar looks like 
him. Who are the others?” 

“That’s Simon, and there’s father, and I can 


294 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

hear Jennie Austin’s silvery laugh, and Carrie 
Bean’s screech. What are they coming over here 
for tonight?” 

We hurried up our horse, and soon threw off 
our load, and then ran down to the landing, where 
we found another row-boat full of our Kentucky 
friends and all the station there to meet them. 

“ We have come to your husking, Morris !” cried 
J ennie. 

“And he sure you have plenty of red ears, for 
the next time we come we want to dance at your 
wedding,” Carrie Bean added. 

1 1 My husking bee ! I know nothing of it ! It ’s 
taken me by surprise ; and when you dance at my 
wedding, you will have to bring the bride with 
you. ’ ’ 

“That’s no hard matter, Morris. Plenty of 
these girls are willing,” said Simon with a loud 
laugh. “There’s Carrie herself. She’ll take you 
fast enough if you only shake your head at her.” 

But Carrie had vanished before Simon had fin- 
ished, and it was an hour before she would let me 
say a word to her. 

The whole party flocked up the bank in one 
group, being in the best of spirits, and out for all 
the fun they could crowd into one evening. We 


A Daring Venture 295 

found John McDonald making a big fire for light 
and warmth; and in a short time the crowd was 
divided into two sides, and a race began to see 
which would do the most work. Tom was sitting 
by Susie and their nimble fingers were not the 
slowest there. After a while both seized the same 
ear. 

“I hope it’s a red one,” he said, stripping off 
the husk and holding up his prize. 

“Now I ’ll have my reward.” 

“You won’t get it from me,” said Susie, spring- 
ing to her feet, and eluding Tom’s hand. Her 
friends helped her as Tom pursued, and it was 
some minutes before he cornered her between the 
blockhouse and the palisades. Susie was screech- 
ing and the boys and girls were running to look 
on when a loud smack announced Tom’s success. 

“Many hands make light work,” and it was not 
long until the last ear was husked ; and it was evi- 
dent that John McDonald’s side had the largest 
pile of ears. Then the women and girls gathered 
in the cabins, and in a short time came out distrib- 
uting wooden trenchers and horn and pewter 
spoons, and others followed with steaming kettles 
of vension stew, and boards heaped with golden 
corn-bread, light and sweet. 


296 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

After a merry half-hour over the supper there 
were a few dances by the firelight in the open, and 
then a game of blindman’s buff, and it was still 
early when our guests took their way home, Tom 
going with them. Such were the simple amuse- 
ments of our life in the pioneer days, when the 
communities were small and like one family. 

The next day Ellison, the Beasleys and I bought 
a flatboat of a family who settled on a tract of land 
near the station. We loaded the broad horn with 
our corn, and took it to Cincinnati, where we sold 
it at a fair price. Tom went with me and we bought 
three traps for beaver, and powder and lead and 
salt, and I had five silver dollars in my pocket when 
we set out in the canoe for home. 

Susie had spent the week with Mrs. Anderson 
and by their kindness and industry Tom and I 
were both fitted out with a new suit of oiled buck- 
skin, shirt, leggings, and moccasins. We were 
elated with our new and comfortable clothing, and 
a day after our return from Cincinnati we again 
dipped our paddles in the Ohio and started for a 
long journey up the Scioto. Before we started 
Susie begged us to be careful of our health and 
safety. 

‘ 4 You boys must promise you will build huts or 


A Daring Venture 297 

lodges every cold or stormy night. I won ’t let you 
go, Morris, unless you do, for you might he frozen 
to death or get your hands and feet frozen, so that 
you could not get food, or come home.” 

“Yes, we will promise. It is our plan to make a 
comfortable camp every time we change our place 
of trapping.” 

“And you must promise you will not go farther 
into the Indian country than you have already ex- 
plored.” 

“We cannot promise that, Susie, for we cannot 
tell what we may find and we must follow the game 
when we find it. ’ ’ 

“The men accuse the women of changing their 
minds. I think you have faced around completely, 
Morris. You would not go with Massie last spring 
and did not want Tom to go. Now you have per- 
suaded him to go with you on this wild goose chase, 
you two hoys alone among a lot of Indians. You 
are not very consistent, Morris.” 

“Don’t you see the difference, sister? Then, the 
Indians claimed the land ; now, they have ceded it 
to us. Then, they were hostile; now, they have 
promised not to molest the white people . 9 9 

“That may be, but you can’t convince me it isn’t 


298 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

very dangerous. I’m certain I’ll never see either 
of you again. ’ ’ 

“ Don’t part with us with such discouraging 
words, sister. Give us one of your own brave 
speeches for a good start.” 

“I can’t, Morris, I’m too heavy-hearted,” Susie 
replied as she kissed me goodby. Nor did she re- 
fuse Tom when he lightly touched her lips with his. 
Then she once more threw her arms around me 
and held me fast for a long moment. 

“May God take care of you and bring you back 
again in safety. Morris, you are all I have. Re- 
member that and do be careful. Every night I will 
pray for your protection.” 

Tom and I were both pretty sober as we bent 
to our paddles, and it was some time before either 
of us spoke a word. The next day we were ascend- 
ing the Scioto, and as we went on we found little 
inducement to set our traps on the streams that 
flow into the lower part of the river. The high 
hills east of the Scioto turn the waters into the two 
Hocking rivers, so that the creeks are not large. 
We found several bears and only one got away 
from us. 

After a few days we pushed on up to Paint 
Creek and here we found traps set for beaver, and 


A Daring Venture 299 

I knew they belonged to my friend, Josh. But 
although we sought him and waited for him we did 
not find him. Of course we would not trespass on 
his waters, therefore we left Paint and paddled up 
the Scioto another day’s travel. This brought us 
to the site of the Lower Shawanoese villages, 
where Logan ’s cabin had been. Carefully scouting 
we found them all deserted and wondered why, un- 
til we learned that the English did not give up 
plotting with the Indians after the treaty was 
signed, but kept on until they had delivered up 
Detroit and Fort Miami during the following sum- 
mer. 

Upon Congo Creek we discovered marks of 
beaver on the branches of sycamore and slippery 
elm lodged on the banks, but the signs were not 
abundant. Tom helped me dig sassafras roots, 
and then he remained in camp while I floated down 
the creek and set the traps under the banks, with 
the sassafras on the top above them. The next 
morning I quickly paddled up stream and found 
my first beaver in one of the traps ; but the others 
had not been disturbed, nor could I discover any 
fresh signs of the wary animals on the creek. 

Tom met me coming back to camp. 

“You’ve had some luck if it was not great.” 


300 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

“I do not think there is another one in the creek. 
This old fellow has a broken tooth and every 
branch that had been gnawed or peeled has the 
mark of it.” 

“ There is something strange about that. Don’t 
they always live in families and have dams and 
houses ? Where is his mate t ’ 9 

“ Josh told me he used to find a solitary one now 
and then. He says the mates fight, and the young 
ones combine and drive out an old tyrant, and will 
not let him come back again. So, unless he can 
get a mate to follow him, he has to live alone the 
rest of his days. Now that I have him I can make 
some scent, and we will not waste time here, but 
look for the colony he came from, which will not 
be far away.” 

After skinning the beaver I carefully cut into 
the under part of the body until I found two pear- 
shaped sacs. These contained the castor, a yellow- 
brown substance with a pungent odor. Tom 
brought me some of the bark of the spice bush, 
which we pounded up and mixed with the castor, 
and this we placed in a little box we made of buck- 
eye wood and plugged it up with a tight-fitting top, 

“Well, I suppose we will have to hunt for that 
other creek where the lodges are . 9 9 


A Daring Venture 301 

“I think it’s a big one that flows in from the 
west a few miles above here.” 

“ There are Indians np there, for I saw smoke 
up there this morning.” 

“Was there much of it, or anything unusual 
about it?” 

“No. Just a little of it, like you have when you 
start a fire, and then there was no more.” 

“In that case we will go up the Scioto at night a 
good many miles beyond, and then portage across 
west to the creek. I was up there with Massie 
and saw the beaver dams. We can’t go up the 
creek unless we portage around the dams. If we 
go close to the dams we will alarm the beaver and 
get none of them, and if we go far around them 
the Indians may find our trail and bother us. They 
might steal our beaver or our traps or do some 
other mischief. If we can avoid them altogether 
as we have so far, we won’t run into unknown 
troubles or disasters.” 

The fact was that our immunity from danger 
had made us both bold. We did not think of back- 
ing out when we knew there were Indians near us. 
We determined to go ahead with great caution, 
avoid the redskins, if possible, and if we were dis- 
covered to make the best of the situation. 


302 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

Tom agreed to my proposal and four hours after 
sunset we came opposite a small camp of five 
tepees. There was no fire, and a dead silence pre- 
vailed until a large dog howled, and a small cur 
ran out along the hank harking at us. We saw no 
one and soon left the camp far behind us. At mid- 
night we drew our canoe under some hushes, and 
pulling our blankets over us soon fell asleep, nor 
did we waken until sunrise. 

As I rose to a sitting posture I was astonished 
to hear women’s voices at the river. Laying my 
hand on Tom’s mouth, which ensured his being 
quiet, I looked around carefully from under the 
screen of the hushes. The women sat there talking 
an interminable time, it seemed to me; they then 
dipped their pails in the river and went hack to 
their lodges in a grove a little way down the river. 

When they were out of sight I climbed a tree 
and discovered the cluster of tepees, a small village 
of Wyandottes, opposite the present site of Colum- 
bus, as I afterwards discovered. 

‘ ‘ Come, Tom, we must sneak away at once and I 
will tell you when we are out of hearing,” I said 
in a low tone, and immediately lifted our canoe 
into the river. 

Noiselessly we took our places and dipped our 


A Daring Venture 303 

paddles; as silently as a bird upon the wing we 
stole up the stream under cover of the overhanging 
banks. Not until we had put ten miles between us 
and that camp did we stop to talk or eat our break- 
fast. We entered a creek flowing from the west 
and followed its varying course a few miles, and 
then when it brought us no nearer to the stream 
we were seeking we landed. 

After resting a little and eating a hasty lunch 
of cold duck, Tom took up the guns and baggage 
and I the canoe, and we started on a direct course 
west. Fortune had favored us, and a tramp of two 
hours brought us to a valley in the center of which 
we caught the gleam of water. 

6 ‘ There ’s our creek, Tom, and I will be glad to 
ride in this boat instead of carrying it. ’ ’ 

“Back out, Morris/ ’ Tom said, coming back to 
me where I was resting. “That creek is alive with 
beaver. There are lots of branches neatly peeled, 
and a tree there they have cut down.” 

My weariness vanished under this encouraging 
news. We went back and then north, for we were 
sure there was a dam below, and made our camp 
in a thick clump of bushes by a small stream, and 
dug a hole in the ground for our fire. 

Early in the afternoon I floated down into the 


304 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

larger stream, and down this a mile or more until 
the water spread out into a good-sized pond, and 
there, stretching across the stream, was a rough 
hut effective dam about seventy-five or eighty feet 
from hank to hank. I floated near and examined 
it, being careful to touch nothing above water. It 
was made of small sticks about six feet long, plas- 
tered together with mud, and grass and weeds filled 
in the chinks. There was a house or lodge in the 
middle of the pond also made of small sticks. This 
was almost fifteen feet in diameter, and inside of 
if there would be a platform above the water where 
the industrious animals ate their bark, and slept 
all day long. The entrance to it was below the 
surface of the water. 

This lodge was built because the banks were too 
low to allow them to burrow above the water line. 
Where the banks are high enough they live in the 
ground. 

It was a beautiful place with a park-like appear- 
ance near the stream, for the beaver had cut down 
the trees when they were small and so prevented 
the growth of large timber. 

The dam I saw was not straight, but curved in 
the center up the stream. All the large dams I 
ever examined were made in the same way. Who 


A Daring Venture 305 

taught these dumb animals that principle of engi- 
neering, which man has been slow to learn, that the 
weight of the water would be more evenly distrib- 
uted if the upper side of the dam was convex? 

It appeared as if a large family lived here, and 
I moved about with the greatest caution and re- 
mained but a few minutes. The beaver’s organs 
of smell are so delicate that they can detect the 
scent of a man’s hand or foot for a long distance, 
and can catch the odor of the castor a mile away 
from the trap. 

I did not place any traps near the dam, because 
the struggle of a beaver to get free would frighten 
the whole family. With only a quiet dip of the 
paddle I went up stream for a mile, and where an 
elm sprout grew on the bank I anchored my canoe 
by driving a sharp stake into the muddy bottom. 
With the paddle I dug a hole for the trap just 
below the surface of the water. A small stick, tied 
by a horse hair to the trap, held a little of the scent 
on the top, and this was stuck into the bank just 
above the trap. There was a short chain on the 
trap, and then a long strip of basswood bark, and 
this tied to a branch, which, floating on the surface, 
marked the spot where I would find a dead beaver 
when the trap was sprung. 


306 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

Nothing which I had handled was above the 
water except that little stick in the bank. Drawn 
by the essence of the bait the beaver would swim 
to the spot, climb over the trap and, if caught, 
struggle in the water until it was drowned, and 
nothing would remain to frighten the other 
beavers. 

Tom went with me in the morning and watched 
me as I gathered up our game and reset the traps. 
Each one had a beaver caught by the forefoot, and 
we wished we had as many more traps. After that 
Tom was as good a trapper as I, and he went out 
the next morning while I watched the camp. Game 
was abundant and we lived on turkeys and ducks. 

On the fourth day as we were eating our dinner 
Tom said: 

“We need not go hunting today. This turkey 
will last till tomorrow.’ ’ 

“I think not, for we are going to have a visitor, 
if not two or three, whose appetites are huge. Don’t 
look uneasy or scared. Take it as if it was an 
every-day occurrence for Indians to visit us.” 

“ I don’t see anyone.” 

“He is in the bush behind you.” 

Tom did not look around, but rose and put some 
dry sticks on the fire, and as he moved about he 


A Daring Venture 307 

glanced at the willows and then sat down by me 
with his rifle across his knees. 

The Indian stood up and came toward us, know- 
ing he had been seen. He was unarmed, except 
his knife, and he sat down without saying a word. 
Tom handed him the turkey and motioned to him 
to eat, and in an incredibly short time nothing but 
the hones were left. Then he looked at me closely 
and said : 

“Ma hese, Ma hese.” 

“What does he mean, Tom!” 

1 ‘ Mawese, Mawese , 9 9 the red man said, this time 
pointing to me. 

I shook my head, but Tom was quicker, and lay- 
ing his hand on me said : 

‘ ‘ Morris ! ’ 9 

“Ugh, Molis! Molis! Name Molis. Live by 
Ohio sepe.” 

I I Who are you ? Where did you see me V 9 
“Wa-will-a-way. Name Wa-will-a-way. Get 

hoy Molis. Get man— dead . 9 9 

By this time I remembered the face and form of 
the man who had befriended me when I was cap- 
tured, and explained it to Tom. 

“More pelewa. Wa-will-a-way eat.” 

I showed him that we had no more turkey, but 


308 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

pointed to a beaver I bad skinned, whose musky- 
flavored meat we did not like. With a smile of 
pleasure We-will-a-way cut off the broad flat tail, 
which some people ignorantly call the trowel of the 
beaver, and putting it on a sharpened stick held it 
over the coals. When the scales were blistered 
white on both sides he scraped them off and greed- 
ily began to eat. 

“Is it good?” I asked. 

For a reply he pulled off a piece of the white, 
tender meat and handed it to me, and it was the 
daintiest, sweetest morsel I had eaten for many 
months. 

“What fools we have been, Tom, to throw all 
those beaver tails away! Get one and thank this 
old buck for teaching you what it is,” I said as I 
sharpened a stick and fixed a tail on it. Tom fol- 
lowed my example, and soon all three of us were 
smacking our lips. 

Wa-will-a-way had learned a little English and 
talked with us, as well as he could. He seemed 
friendly and remained with us for a day. He 
wanted to learn to talk in our language, and we 
soon perceived this and taught him a good many 
new words. He still called me Molis, for R is a 
letter not found in Shawanoese words, and hard 


A Daring Venture 309 

for them to pronounce. We asked him to stay with 
us, but the next day he went away. 

We had obtained fifteen beaver in this stream, 
and on the sixth day I went out to examine the 
traps. There was but one that morning, and there- 
fore I did not set them again, being satisfied we 
had caught all we would get there, and that it was 
time to seek a new field. When I came near the 
camp I saw an Indian standing by the fire, and 
supposed it was our friend. But as I reached the 
spot I saw he was a stranger, and Tom was tied 
to a tree. Instantly my gun was leveled, but before 
I could utter a word my arms were seized from 
behind and my gun went oft in the air. 

I struggled to free myself but in vain, and the 
Indians tripped me up and laid me on the grass, 
where they held me down. 

“What does this mean, Tom? Has Wa-will-a- 
way betrayed us?” 

“ No, I don ’t believe that of him. This man says 
I stole his horse on Paint Creek. He says he will 
take all our traps and skins to pay for it. ’ 9 

6 ‘ I guess not. Let them take us to their village 
and then we will talk him out of it.” 

“You don’t seem afraid of them. But that short 
one is looking at you in a very malicious way.” 


310 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

“Why should I he afraid? They will not dare 
injure us.” 

‘ ‘ Don ’t trust that man. He ’s a devil . ’ 9 

Tom was right about that, for the shortest one 
of the three men scowled at me, and then holding 
up his arm said : 

“Arm— broke. Arm— broke.” 

Then he seized my arm and gave it a wrench 
that nearly twisted it out of its socket. Next he 
seized his club and lifted it to strike me. 

But just in time to save me from some dreadful 
injury, Wa-will-a-way ran in and gave the angry 
buck a shove that sent him sprawling on the 
ground. Next, like a giant he pulled off the one 
who was sitting on my chest, and gave the third 
one a cuff with his open hand which knocked him 
off my knees. I sprang to my feet, and, whipping 
out my knife, cut Tom ’s bonds, and then seized my 
gun, which had fallen on the grass. 

“Now we are three to three and they will find 
we are more than a match for them. Get the ax . ’ 9 

“He is my meat,” Tom said as he took up our 
ax, and stood ready to knock over the biggest of 
the three men who had captured him. But Wa- 
will-a-way held up his hand. 

“The little one fight, name Wild Cat. Him, 


A Daring Venture 31 1 

snake! Him, fox!” lie said scornfully, pointing to 
the others. 

Then he began to talk to them in the most vigor- 
ous way in their own language. Reproach, scorn 
and ridicule were heaped upon them, as we could 
perceive without understanding a word that was 
said. The two men were completely cowed by it, 
but the little man answered him back with anger. 
Then Wa-will-a-way argued earnestly for some 
time, but the plucky fellow seemed implacable. 

‘ 4 Wild Cat wants gun. His arm broken. Gun 
make it strong.” 

I began to understand. This was the man whose 
arm my father broke and he wanted me to pay for 
it with my gun according to Indian usage. 

“No, never!” I said firmly. “The Big Wind 
made treaty. All debts were wiped out. All diffi- 
culties settled up. No claims for damages were 
left over. Hatchet buried so deep no one can dig 
it up.” 

I made my meaning plain to Wa-will-a-way, who 
assented to it, but when he talked it over to Wild 
Cat, he only replied: 

“Arm broke— gun.” 

“Tell him he killed my father. I want satisfac- 


312 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

tion for that. If he takes my gun, I will kill him 
for my father’s murder.” 

I enforced my argument by taking my knife from 
its sheath and feeling the sharp edge, and then 
slitting up one of the leather thongs to show how 
keen the edge was. The memory of my wrongs 
came over me with overpowering force. I thought 
of my father’s dreadful murder, of my mother’s 
grief and death, of the long years of lonely orphan- 
age, of the hard struggle of years to support my- 
self and Susie. The hot blood surged through my 
body. Vengeance took possession of me like an 
evil spirit, and I watched my enemy with a fierce 
pleasure, ready to spring upon him and sink my 
knife into his breast. 

But some good influence came to my rescue in 
time to save me from committing a deed that would 
have stained my hands with human blood, and 
soiled my spirit with a crime that no after regrets 
could wash away. Wild Cat saw that he had met 
one who was more than a match for him. Physical 
strength, courage and hatred— these were the qual- 
ities he could respect; and he began to listen to 
Wa-will-a-way, who drew some forcible arguments 
from the spirit I had shown. Meantime Tom was 


A Daring Venture 313 

talking to me, trying to allay my passion and to 
induce me to let the murderer go. 

“Tell him to go away— far away. Let me never 
see him again. If he follows me I will give him to 
the wolves and buzzards.’ ’ 

These words, which Wa-will-a-way seemed to 
comprehend, he interpreted in a forcible way to 
Wild Cat, and he took up his gun, and motioned 
to his two companions to come with him, and we 
saw him no more. 

Tom said he had lost his interest in trapping 
beaver and proposed to go down the river. 

‘ ‘ No, ’ ’ I replied. ‘ 1 There are more beaver above 
and below us. I shall stay till they stop coming 
to the traps. Wa-will-a-way stay with us. Go up 
stream. ’ ’ 

“Ugh! Wa-will-a-way— father of Molis. Send 
bad Indians heap away. ’ ’ 

We remained on that creek a week longer, until 
we had twenty-five beaver skins, and then, with 
Wa-will-a-way in the bow of our canoe, we paddled 
out boldly by the Indian camp and down the Scioto. 
When we had gone below Paint Creek our guar- 
dian left us, and we invited him to come to see us 
at the mouth of Paint Creek in the moon of straw- 
berries. 


314 Camp-Fires on. the Scioto 

“Eat our pelewa. Eat mugwa. Ugh!” said 
Tom, adding a string of Indian words in the deep 
guttural tones and the very accent of his teacher, 
and as soberly as any old warrior by the evening 
campfire. Wa-will-a-way stared at him a moment, 
and then clapping his hand on his shoulder said: 

“Tom, good Shawano. Come live by Wa-will-a- 
way J s fire.” 

Tom shook his head. 

“Tom must go back to Anderson’s cabin.” 

It was now late in November, but on the hills of 
southern Ohio the bears were still roaming about, 
and we followed their trail until we had added a 
dozen skins to our store of peltry. We looked it 
over with deep satisfaction. 

“Our trip has been a success, but I would not 
care to go through it again for twice as much.” 

“I would undertake it again tomorrow,” I re- 
plied. “I have lost something of the innocent feel- 
ing of my youth, but I have acquired a determina- 
tion to carry out my plans against all obstacles 
that is worth more to me than all these skins. And 
now let’s take them up to Pittsburg and get the 
best price for them.” 

Tom agreed with me and two weeks later we 


A Daring Venture 315 

sold our peltry and buckskins for more than two 
hundred dollars. 

“ We have done well. I can pay Massie for my 
land and have some money left for a new compass. 
And now I must buy Susie a nice dress . 9 9 

“And I will get one for mother, but I shall save 
my money to buy land in Massie ’s new town on 
the Scioto.” 

We now pushed down the river as rapidly as 
possible, for cold weather had set in and we were 
afraid the river might freeze over and compel us 
to walk home. We reached the station about the 
end of the year, well and hearty and satisfied with 
the results of our venture. 

At Pittsburg we found a great deal of talk about 
the prospects of the territory, and every one as- 
sured us there would be a great rush of emigrants 
in the spring. 

The period of war had come to an end and the 
era of rapid settlement and development begins 
with the year 1796. That period was crowded with 
interesting events which belong to another story. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE LOST MANUSCRIPT 

General Worthington hardly realized how trying 
a task he had undertaken, when he offered to read 
the story of Morris Patterson to his grandchildren. 
His voice was not very strong at this period and 
forty or fifty pages taxed it rather severely. But 
when he was in the midst of some of the more 
exciting events of the story neither of the children 
was willing he should stop, hut teased him to read 
one more chapter, so that they might be sure Mor- 
ris had safely surmounted the difficulties, or had 
been rescued from the dangers that surrounded 
him. 

Eleanor wished there were more about Susie, and 
was disappointed that there was no romance about 
her. She said Susie was a brave, energetic girl, 
as many of the pioneer girls must have been. 

Arthur thought she was too young to be having 
romantic experiences and that there might be 
something of that kind afterward. He was a little 
316 


The Lost Manuscript 317 

impatient over some of the descriptions of the 
work of surveying, hut after his curiosity about the 
adventures of Morris and his companions had been 
satisfied, he thought more about the work they ac- 
complished which was so important. 

“Morris had plenty of trouble for one boy, but 
he came through on top,” Arthur remarked when 
the last chapter had been finished. “He was the 
kind of a boy who didn ’t get discouraged or fright- 
ened, and he used his brains and common sense to 
find a way out of trouble. ’ ’ 

“But there were two or three times when he 
couldn’t have escaped, if old Josh had not come 
just at the right time to help him. ’ 9 

“Eleanor, why do you call him old Josh! He 
wasn’t old. I’d like to know something more about 
him. Does he come into the second part of the 
story, grandfather!” 

* i Oh, yes, there is more about him, and the caves, 
and about Tom Anderson, and Massie, of course. 
And, as I told you before, the second manuscript 
brings in my father and Governor Tiffin and Gov- 
ernor St. Clair, and his friend, Judge Burnet, and 
a number of other prominent actors in the making 
of our state, and in the founding and early history 
of this city.” 


3 1 8 Camp-Fires on the Scioto 

‘ 4 Couldn’t you tell it to us now?” 

“Oli no, Arthur. I do not remember the story 
well enough to tell it, and I should only mangle it 
if I should attempt it. You know how it is when 
you are reviewing history. You may think you 
know the events of a period very well, but telling 
them in their proper order and putting in the dates 
exactly, and getting in the connecting incidents, 
requires close and painstaking study.” 

1 6 Everything gets jumbled up in your head, and 
you can’t tell anything well unless you know it 
thoroughly,” said Eleanor. “You can think of 
fifty things you are interested in, but you can’t tell 
about one of them clearly.” 

“Of course, children, I can tell you of many 
events in the history of Chillicothe, the first capital 
of our state. But there would not be time for it, 
as your visit is almost over. Day after tomorrow 
we must take the canal boat and go to Columbus, 
and the next morning I’ll put you on the train for 
Cincinnati and at night your father will meet you 
there. 

“You are coming again to visit us next spring, 
and then I hope, indeed I feel sure, I shall have 
discovered the lost manuscript, and we will read it 
together.” 


The Lost Manuscript 319 

‘ ‘ Oh, that will he grand. We love to come to this 
nice old house to visit.” 

“Indeed we do, grandfather,” said Arthur; 
“but April seems a long way off. It’s a quarter 
of a year. ’ ’ 

1 1 Oh fie, Arthur. Why make three months seem 
longer by calling them a quarter of a year f Three 
months seem but a short time to me. ’ ’ 

“But I can’t look at it as you do, grandfather. 
Three months, or even one month, does seem a long 
time to a boy . 9 9 

“Well, then, Arthur, be sure you do not waste 
so much precious time. Crowd it with useful 
studies, with serious thoughts, with helpful deeds 
for others; and with healthful amusements and 
active outdoor play and work, which will develop 
and strengthen your body, and the time will pass 
more quickly; or rather, you will not think about 
the time, but about what you are doing . 9 9 








